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UNIVERSITY   OF   CALIFORNIA 


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No. 


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THE 

HILL   READERS 


BY 
DANIEL  HARVEY  HILL 

AND 

FRANK  LINCOLN  STEVENS 
OF  THE  North  Carolina  College  of  Agriculture  and  Mechanic  Arts 

AND 

CHARLES  WILLIAM    BURKETT       "  ' 
of  the  Kansas  State  Agricultural  College 


BOOK  FOUR 


GINN  &  COMPANY 

BOSTON  •  NEW  YORK  •  CHICAGO  •  LONDON 


Copyright,  1906 
By  GINN  &  COMPANY 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

£DUCATIg|l  OB}r% 


gftc  iStftcngum  3Prc<< 

GINN  &  COMPANY  •   PRO- 
PRIETORS .  BOSTON  •  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

School  readers  enter  more  deeply  into  the  lives  and  char- 
acters of  children  than  do  the  other  books  of  the  public- 
school  curriculum.  What  can  ever  drive  from  the  mind  the 
stories  and  the  poems  of  childhood,  or  erase  the  impressions 
consciously  or  unconsciously  drawn  from  them? 

The  editors  have  striven  to  make  this  series  of  books 
worthy  of  their  responsibility.  The  authors  represented 
belong  almost  entirely  to  two  classes:  first,  those  who 
have  won  applause  as  writers  for  children ;  second,  those 
who  are  members  of  the  world's  elect  circle  ^of  writers. 
As  far  as  is  possible  in  readers,  each  selection  is  given  in 
the  very  words  of  the  author  and  in  its  literary  entirety. 

To  take  advantage  of  the  fact  that  the  fourth-reader 
child  is  perhaps  in  his  most  expansive  imaginative  period, 
an  unusually  large  number  of  new  as  well  as  classic  myths 
and  wonder  stories  have  been  incorporated  in  this  book. 

As  a  large  proportion  of  the  school  children  of  America 
live  in  the  country,  especial  care  has  been  taken  to  include 
a  large  and  varied  number  of  selections  relating  to  rural 
life.  These,  it  is  hoped,  will  help  to  foster  a  love  for  nature 
and  for  the  country  home,  open  the  eyes  of  children  to  the 
marvelous  beauties  around  them,  and  bring  them  nearer 
the  life  that  they  are  to  lead. 

To  help  children  attending  schools  in  which  there  are 
few  reference  books,  the  biographical  notes  have  been 
made  fuller  than  in  most  readers. 

3 

541462 


4  PREFACE 

The  editors  desire  also  to  make  thankful  acknowledg- 
ments to  publishers,  private  copyright  holders,  and  to 
authors  as  follows:  to  The  Outlook  for  the  translation  of 
Jean  Aicard's  story ;  to  Dodd,Mead  &  Co.  for  Ian  Maclaren's 
The  Saving  of  Nestie  ;  to  D.  Appleton  &  Co.  for  Bryant's 
Song  of  Marion's  Men ;  to  Little,  Brown  &  Co.  for  Mrs. 
Preston's  Chrimhilde's  Treasures;  to  the  Bloch  Publish- 
ing Company  for  Dr.  A.  S.  Isaac's  translation  from  the 
Talmud;  to  the  Syndics  of  the  University  Press,  Cam- 
bridge, England,  for  the  selection  from  the  Jataka ;  to  the 
Century  Company  for  Irwin  Russell's  Hope;  to  Ginn  & 
Company  for  Dr.  Long's  Attacked  by  a  Moose,  and  Frances 
Nimmo  Greene's  The  Coming  of  Arthur;  to  William 
Hamilton  Hayne  for  Paul  Hamilton  Hayne's  The  Meadow 
Brook;  to  Mrs.  Leonora  M.  Ticknor  for  Dr.  F.  O.  Ticknor's 
Gracie  of  Alabama  ;  to  Dr.  Samuel  Minturn  Peck  for  his 
Grapevine  Swing ;  to  Madison  Cawein  for  The  Old  Barn; 
to  Elbert  Hubbard  for  A  Message  to  Garcia ;  and  to 
Benjamin  Sledd  for  The  Children.  The  selections  from 
Longfellow,  Burroughs,  Holmes,  Whittier,  Lowell,  Haw- 
thorne, Trowbridge,  Horace  E.  Scudder,  Olive  Thorne 
Miller,  and  Joel  Chandler  Harris  are  used  by  permission 
of,  and  by  special  arrangement  with,  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co.,  publishers  of  their  works. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  King  and  the  Lapwings.     Joel  Chandler  Harris    .  13 

The  Little  Land.     Robert  Louis  Stevenson 21 

Old  Pipes  and  the  Dryad.     Frank  Richard  Stockton     .  25 

The  Japanese  Mirror.     T.  Hasegawa 42 

Bob  White.     George  Cooper 48 

The  Nun's  Priest's  Tale.     Geoffrey  Chaucer  ....  50 

The  Old  Barn.     Madison  Caicein 56 

The  Story  of  an  Apple.     H.  L.  Hutt 58 

The  Field  of  the  Sluggard.     The  Bible 67 

The  Rabbi  and  the  Diadem.     The  Talmud      ....  68 

The  Meadow  Brook.     Paul  Hamilton  Hayne 70 

The  Farmer's  Life.     John  Burroughs 72 

The  Hero.     Henry  Jerome  Stockard 74 

The  Herdsman's  Song.     Johann  Friedrich  von  Schiller     .  75 

The  Battle  in  the  Dark.     George  Cary  Eggleston    .     .  76 

The  Children.     Benjamin  Sledd 84 

The  Story  of  the  Cable.     James  Thomas  Fields     ...  85 

The  Village  Blacksmith.     Henry  Wadsworth  Jjongfelloio  91 

Three  Famous  Legends.     Horace  Elisha  Scudder       .     .  95 

The  Bow  of  Eurytus.     James  Baldwin 107 

Song  of  Marion's  Men.     William  Cullen  Bryant     .     .     .  1 14 

The  Saving  of  Nestie.     Ian  Maclaren 118 

The  Grapevine  Swing.     Samuel  Minturn  Peck  ....  126 
The  Timid  Hare  and  the  Flight  of  the  Beasts.    The 

Jataka 128 

5 


6  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Bob  saves  his  Father's  Life.     Thomas  Nelson  Page    .  133 

Little  Alvilda.     Hjalmar  Hjorth  Boyesen 143 

Oliver  Cromwell.     Nathaniel  Hawthorne 161 

A  Musical  Instrument.     Elizabeth  Barrett  Brotcning  .     .  174 

Uncle  Remus  and  his  Stories 177 

Uncle    Rain    and    Brother    Drouth.      Joel   Chandler 

Harris 185 

The  Last  Leaf.     Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 198 

A  Child's  Dream  of  a  Star.     Charles  Dickens    .     .     .  201 

Attacked  by  a  Moose.     William  Joseph  Long  ....  207 

May  Day.     John  Wolcot 213 

The  Strength  of  Douglas.     Walter  Scott  .     .     .     .     .  214 

Gracie  of  Alabama.     Francis  OiTery  Ticknor   ....  220 

Daybreak.     Percy  Bysshe  Shelley 222 

Daffydowndilly.     Nathaniel  Hawthorne 223 

Hope.     Irwin  Russell 236 

The  Coming  of  Arthur.     Frances  Nimmo  Greene      .     .  237 

Fairy  Song.      William  Shakespeare 242 

Chrimhilde's  Treasures.     Margaret  Junkin  Preston  .     .  244 

His  Wings  and  Tail.     Olive  Thorne  Miller 247 

Evening  at  the  Farm.     John  Toimisend  Trowbridge  .     .  251 

The  Heritage.     James  Russell  Lowell 255 

A  Message  to  Garcia.     Elbert  Hubbard 259 

The  Greenwood  Tree.      William  Shakespeare  ....  264 

The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade.     Alfred  Tennyson  .  265 

The  Knight  and  the  Saracen.     Walter  Scott      .     .     .  269 

To  stay  at  Home  is  Best.    Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  278 

The  Rainbow.     William  Wordsworth 279 

The  Dog  that  Lied.     Jean  Aicard 280 

The  Brazen  Head.     Horace  Elisha  Scudder 289 


CONTENTS  7 

PAGE 

The  Barefoot  Boy.     John  Greenleaf  Whittier     ....  297 

GuDBRAND  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN.     Selected 302 

The  Grasshopper  and  the  Cricket.     John  Keats    .     .  309 

The  Adventure  of  the  Mason.      Washington  Irving     •  310 
How  Robin  Hood  shot  before  Queen  Eleanor.     Hoto- 

ardPyle 317 

Raleigh  and  Queen  Elizabeth.     Walter  Scott     .     .     .  343 


INDEX  OF  AUTHORS 

PAGE 

AiCARD,  Jean 280 

Baldwin,  James / 107 

Bible 67 

BoYESEN,  Hjalmar  Hjorth 143 

Browning,  Elizabeth  Barrett 174 

Bryant,  William  Cullen 114 

Burroughs,  John 72 

Cawein,  Madison 56 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey .  50 

Cooper,  George 48 

Dickens,  Charles ^  ,     .     .  201 

Eggleston,  George  Cary 76 

Fields,  James  Thomas 85 

Greene,  Frances  Nimmo 237 

Harris,  Joel  Chandler 13,  185 

Hasegawa,  T 42 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel 161,223 

Hayne,  Paul  Hamilton 70 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell 198 

Hubbard,  Elbert 259 

Hutt,  H.  L 58 

Irving,  Washington 310 

Jataka 128 

Keats,  John 309 

Long,  William  Joseph  . 207 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth ,.01,  278 

Lowell,  James  Russell 255 

Maclaren,  Ian 118 

Miller,  Olive  Thorne 247 

Page,  Thomas  Nelson 133 

Peck,  Samuel  Minturn 126 

9 


10  INDEX  OF  AUTHORS 

PAGE 

Preston,  Margaret  Junkin 244 

Pyle,  Howard 317 

Russell,  Irwin 236 

Schiller,  Johann  Friedrich  von 76 

Scott,  Walter 214,  269,  343 

ScuDDER,  Horace  Elisha 96,  289 

Selected 177,  302 

Shakespeare,  William 242,  264 

Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe 222 

Sledd,  Benjamin        84 

Stevenson,  Robert  Louis 21 

Stockard,  Henry  Jerome 74 

Stockton,  Frank  Richard 26 

Talmud 68 

Tennyson,  Alfred 266 

TicKNOR,  Francis  Orrery 220 

Trowbridge,  John  Townsend 361 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf 297 

WoLcoT,  John 213 

Wordsworth,  William 279 


12 


THE  HILL  READERS 

Book  Foue 
the  king  and  the  lapwings' 

Joel  Chandler  Harris^ 


One  day  the  great  King  of  the  Magicians  and 
Sorcerers  was  leaving  his  country  to  visit  a  neigh- 
boring Queen.  The  birds  sang  and  the  little 
crickets  in  the  grass  made  themselves  noisy ;  but 
the  King,  while  enjoying  the  scene  and  the  sounds 
around  him,  went  forward  without  delay. 

1  From  Evening  Tales.  (From  the  French.)  Copyright,  1900. 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  Publishers. 

2  For  a  sketch  of  the  life  of  Joel  Chandler  Harris,  see  page  177. 

13 


/.  J'^-:  •.  ■;    ■  .    :  :     rrttJl.HILL  KEADERS 

The  sun  shone  brightly,  the  birds  were  joyous, 
and  all  nature  seemed  to  be  happy,  but  the  King 
suffered  from  fatigue.  Great  beads  of  perspiration 
broke  out  on  his  forehead,  and  he  longed  for  a 

5  cloud  that  would  give  shade  and  coolness.  The 
earth  seemed  to  be  a  furnace.  The  sun  spread  its 
great  rays  of  light  and  the  cloud  came  not.  The 
King  begged  for  a  clump  of  woods  that  he  might 
have  the  benefit  of  shade,  and  for  a  stream  of  cool 

10  and  sparkling  water  that  he  might  quench  his 
thirst.  The  road  was  long  and  dusty,  and  the 
wells  were  dry. 

In  the  air,  far  away,  appeared  the  King  of  the 
Lapwings.    He  bore  in  his  beak  a  draught  of  water, 

15  and  his  wings  were  dripping  wet.  Faster  than  the 
wind  he  made  his  way  to  the  fainting  King. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  bird ;  "  it  was  indeed  time  that 
I  came";  and  with  the  end  of  his  wing  he  tenderly 
washed  the  face   of   the   unfortunate   King,  and 

20  placed  between  his  lips  the  water  he  held  in  his 
beak.    The  King  revived  and  opened  his  eyes. 

^^Ah!"  he  exclaimed;  "thou  wh^o  hast  given 
me  back  my  life !  I  am  hereafter  under  all  obliga- 
tions to  you." 

25  "  Wait  a  moment,  your  Majesty,"  said  the  King 
of  the  Lapwings;   "thirst  still  devours  you,  but 


BOOK  FOUR  15 

have  hope.  Behold  in  the  distance  my  faithful  sub- 
jects who  come  forth,  each  one  carrying  at  the  end 
of  its  wings  the  delightful  refreshment  you  have 
longed  for." 

The  lapwings  arrived  on   all  sides.    Each  one    5 
deposited  in  the  mouth  of  the  unfortunate  King 
the  fresh  water  for  which  he  thirsted. 

"  Ah !  this  is  better  than  bread,"  said  the  King, 
reviving.    "  What  can  I  do  to  show  my  gratitude?  " 

"  Nothing,"   said    the   King   of   the   Lapwings.  10 
"  Nothing,"  responded  the  other  birds.    "  Continue 
your  journey,  and  you  will  find  yourself  hereafter 
under  the  shadow  of  our  wings." 

Then  the  King  resumed  his  journey.  Night 
came,  and  he  found  himself  near  the  palace  of  the  is 
Queen  whom  he  had  intended  to  visit.  The  lap- 
wings still  continued  with  him.  No  matter  how 
bright  the  sun  shone,  no  matter  how  suffocating 
the  heat  as  he  journeyed  on,  a  gentle  lapwing 
came  to  his  assistance.  20 

Touched  by  the  solicitude  of  these  birds,  the 
King  said :  "  I  cannot  leave  you,  my  friends,  you 
who  had  pity  on  me  when  I  was  forsaken  by  all, 
without  giving  you  an  evidence  of  my  gratitude. 
Tell  me,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  How  can  I  show  25 
you  how  grateful  I  am?" 


16  THE  HILL  READERS 

At  these  words  the  King  of  the  Lapwings  ad- 
vanced and  spoke  to  the  King :  "  We  desire,  your 
Majesty,  to  be  the  most  beautiful  of  birds.  We  want 
a  golden  crown  on  our  heads,  so  that  we  may  be 
5  placed  before  the  peacock,  who  is  so  proud  of  his 
plumage,  and  before  the  gay  nightingale,  who  is  so 
proud  of  his  song." 

At  these  words  a  great  sadness  filled  the  heart 
of  the  King,  who  could  read  the  future;  and  he 

10  responded,  shaking  his  head :  "  Ah  !  you  foolish 
birds,  larger  of  heart  than  of  mind !  You  do  not 
know  the  weight  of  a  crown  and  of  the  dangers 
to  which  it  exposes  those  who  possess  it.  A  golden 
diadem,  say  you  ?    Alas  !  it  will  bring  you  misfor- 

15.  tune  ;  ambition  without  bounds  is  wicked  and  peril- 
ous.   Dear  friends,  demand  of  me  something  else." 
"  No,  no!"  cried  the  lapwings  on  all  sides,  young 
and  old,  little  and  big ;  "  that  is  the  only  gift  we 
desire,  —  a  crown  on  our  heads.    Ah  !    what  hap- 

20  piness !  We  will  fly  in  the  air  and  each  bird  will 
envy  us." 

The  King  saw  that  nothing  he  could  say  would 
convince  his  companions.  He  had  promised  to  sat- 
isfy their  first  request,  and  his  word  was  sacred. 

25  "  Come  with  me,"  said  he,  "  to  my  friend  Zac- 
char,  the  magician.     No  one  is  more  expert  in 


BOOK  FOUR  17 

the  working  of  metal.    Come,  and  you  shall  have 
the  diadem  you  long  for." 

During  three  days  the  magician  worked  pure 
gold.  The  bellows  blew  and  the  hammers  thumped. 
During  three  nights  he  chased  the  marvelous  5 
crowns  that  were  to  adorn  the  heads  of  the  lap- 
wings. At  the  dawn  of  the  fourth  day  the  King 
arrived  with  a  sad  smile  on  his  face. 

"Friends,"  said  he  to  the  birds,  "my  promise  is 
fulfilled.    Take  these  diadems,  which  are  master-  10 
pieces  of  art,  and  go  whither  your  destiny  calls  you." 

At  these  words  the  lapwings  uttered  loud  cries 
of  joy. 

"  Go,  go ! "  cried  the  King;  "escape  from  man  or 
you  are  lost."  15 

Without  understanding  his  warning,  but  obey- 
ing the  command  of  the  powerful  King,  the  lap- 
wings took  flight,  filled  with  joy  and  happiness. 
They  went  here  and  there,  flying  to  the  tops  of  the 
mountains  and  descending  to  the  depths  of  the  20 
valleys,  telling  of  their  good  fortune  to  all  their 
friends  both  far  and  wide. 

When  the  other  birds  saw  the  crowns  they  paid 
due  homage  to  the  symbols.    Whenever  there  was 
a  feast  or  an  important  funeral  the  lapwings  and  25 
their  friends  walked  in  the  place  of  honor,  before 


18  THE  HILL  READERS 

the  eagles  and  the    peafowls,  leaving  far  behind 
them  the  humming  bird  and  the  nightingale. 

But,  unfortunately,  it  happened  one  day  that  a 
lapwing  came  too  near  the  abode  of   man,  and 
5  a  hunter  saw  it  and  killed  it. 

"  What  is  this  ? "  exclaimed  the  sportsman, 
perceiving  the  golden  crown.  Seizing  it,  he  ran 
quickly  to  the  jeweler's. 

"Worker  in  metals,"  said  he,  "see  this  marvel- 
10  ous  diadem  the  lapwing  carries !     Of  what  metal 
is  it  made?" 

The  jeweler   took  the  crown,  turned  it  on  all 
sides,  and,  looking   at   it  with   greedy  eyes,  ex- 
claimed, "It  is  of  pure  gold,  and  if  you  will  part 
15  with  it,  I  will  pay  you  a  hundred  shekels." 

When  the  other  sportsmen  found  out  the  value 
of  the  ornaments  that  the  lapwings  wore  on  their 
heads,  they  made  haste  to  go  into  the  country, 
and  they  pursued  the  birds  wherever  they  could 
20  find  them.  New  weapons  were  invented,  and  the 
hunters  watched  day  and  night,  killing  all  the 
lapwings  that  were  so  unfortunate  as  to  appear 
in  sight. 

"  Lord  have  mercy  on  us !  "  exclaimed  the  lap- 
25  wings ;  "  and  blind  the  eyes  of  the  cruel  men  who 
are  killing  us." 


BOOK  FOUR  19 

But  the  crown  of  the  lapwings  was  so  brilliant 
that  it  resembled  the  sun's  rays,  and  even  in 
the  darkness  it  shone  like  the  stars.  There  was 
no  rest  or  escape  for  these  unfortunate  birds.  The 
dark  night  was  as  fatal  to  them  as  the  day.  The  5 
huntsmen  pursued  them  with  so  much  vigor  that 
only  ten  remained  alive. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ? "  asked  the  King  of  the 
Lapwings,  who  had  not  been  destroyed.    "Let  us 
go  and  implore  the  great  King  to  relieve  ns  of  10 
these  golden  crowns  that  are  the  cause  of  all  our 
misfortunes." 

Immediately  the  lapwings  started  on  their  jour- 
ney in  search  of  the  great  King.  Some  of  them 
stopped  by  the  way,  so  that  only  a  few  reached  15 
the  King's  throne,  where  they  were  welcomed,  the 
powerful  ruler  talking  to  them  kindly,  as  he  would 
have  talked  to  faithful  friends. 

"  Lapwings  with  the  golden  diadems  !    My  dear 
companions,  what  can  I  do    to   please   you   this  20 
day?" 

"  Great  Prince,"  they  replied,  "  you  can  give  us 
our  lives  by  removing  these  unfortunate  gifts  that 
adorn  our  heads, — -by  taking  away  these  golden 
crowns  that  have  been  the  cause  of  all  our  mis-  25 
fortunes." 


20 


THE  HILL  READERS 


"  I  will  grant  your  desire/'  said  the  great  King; 
"  but  in  remembrance  of  your  kindness  to  me  you 
shall  hereafter  wear  a  diadem  of  feathers ;  but  bear 
in  mind  that  happiness  is  not  in  the  gift  of  the 

5  great  or  the  rich,  but  that  it  belongs  only  to  those 
who  earn  it." 

Thereafter  the  lapwings  were  no  longer  pursued 
by  man,  and  they  were  happier  with  their  modest 
tuft  of  feathers  than  they  had   been  with  their 

10  golden  diadem. 

draught :  drink.  —  diadem :  crown.  —  chased  :  ornamented.  — 
shekel :  a  gold  shekel  was  worth  about  five  dollars. 


BOOK  FOUR  21 

THE  LITTLE  LAND^ 

Robert  Louis   Stevenson 

Robert  Louis  Stkvenson  (1850-1894),  novelist  and  poet, 
was  born  in  Edinburgh,  Scotland.  His  father  and  his  grandfather 
were  civil  engineers,  and  built  for  the  government  many  of  the 
lighthouses  that  flash  their  warning  signals  along  the  northern 
coast  of  Great  Britain.  Robert,  after  being  educated  at  the  Uni-  5 
versity  of  Edinburgh,  took  up  engineering,  and  later  studied  law. 
His  health,  however,  did  not  permit  him  to  follow  either  law  or 
engineering,  and  his  own  taste  led  him  to  writing. 

An  increasing  weakness  of  the  lungs  forced  him  to  travel  from 
climate  to  climate  in  a  vain  hope  of  recovery.  His  journeys,  how-  10 
ever,  diverted  his  mind  and  supplied  him  with  rich  material  for 
his  books.  One  year  he  crossed  the  mountains  of  France.  An- 
other year  he  wandered  in  a  canoe  through  the  canals  of  Holland. 
Another  year  found  him  in  the  American  Adirondacks,  and  later 
he  crossed  the  plains  and  lived  for  some  time  in  California.  In  15 
1889  he  went  to  the  Samoan  Islands  to  live.  There,  on  a  moun- 
tain side,  he  built  a  charming  home,  and  there  this  brilliant  story- 
teller died. 

Although  many  of  Stevenson's  pages  were  written  on  railroad 
trains,  on  steamships,  and  on  a  sick  bed  in  different  lands,  none  20 
of  his  work  shows  lack  of  care  or  lack  of  strength.  There  is  about 
almost  everything  that  he  has  written  a  correctness  and  finish 
rarely  surpassed.  In  one  of  his  essays  he  tells  how  he  trained 
himself  to  write,  and  how  faithfully  he  tried  to  perfect  himself 
in  his  chosen  profession.  25 

The  Little  Land  is  from  his  Child's  Garden  of  Verse ,  a  book 
which  Dr.  Trent  pronounces  <■ '  a  masterpiece  of  its  kind. ' '  Among 
his  other  works  for  young  people  are  Treasure  Island,  Kidnapped, 
David  Balfour,  and  The  Black  Arrow. 

1  From  Poems  of  Stevenson.  Copyright,  1900.  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons,  Publishers. 


22  THE  HILL  READERS 


When  at  home  alone  I  sit 
And  am  very  tired  of  it, 
I  have  just  to  shut  my  eyes 
To  go  sailing  through  the  skies  - 

6  To  go  sailing  far  away 

To  the  pleasant  Land  of  Play ; 
To  the  fairy  land  afar 
Where  the  little  people  are ; 
Where  the  clover-tops  are  trees, 

10  And  the  rain-pools  are  the  seas, 

And  the  leaves  like  little  ships 
Sail  about  on  tiny  trips; 
And  above  the  daisy  tree 
Through  the  grasses, 

15  High  o'erhead  the  Bumble  Bee 

Hums  and  passes. 


BOOK  FOUR  23 

In  that  forest  to  and  fro 

I  can  wander,  1  can  go ; 

See  the  spider  and  the  fly, 

And  the  ants  go  marching  by 

Carrying  parcels  with  their  feet  5 

Down  the  green  and  grassy  street. 

I  can  in  the  sorrel  sit 

Where  the  ladybird  alit. 

I  can  climb  the  jointed  grass, 

And  on  high  10 

See  the  greater  swallows  pass 

In  the  sky, 
And  the  round  sun  rolling  by 
Heeding  no  such  things  as  I. 


Through  that  forest  I  can  pass  15 

Till,  as  in  a  looking  glass. 

Humming  fly  and  daisy  tree 

And  my  tiny  self  I  see. 

Painted  very  clear  and  neat 

On  the  rain-pool  at  my  feet.  20 

Should  a  leaflet  come  to  land 

Drifting  near  to  where  I  stand, 

Straight  I  '11  board  that  tiny  boat 

Round  the  rain-pool  sea  to  float. 


24  THE  HILL  READERS 

Little  thoughtful  creatures  sit 
On  the  grassy  coasts  of  it; 
Little  things  with  lovely  eyes 
See  me  sailing  with  surprise. 

5  Some  are  clad  in  armor  green  — 

(These  have  sure  to  battle  been!) — 
Some  are  pied  with  ev'ry  hue, 
Black  and  crimson,  gold  and  blue ; 
Some  have  wings  and  swift  are  gone ;  7 

10  But  they  all  look  kindly  on. 

When  my  eyes  I  once  again 
Open,  and  see  all  things  plain : 
High  bare  walls,  great  bare  floor ; 
Great  big  knobs  on  drawer  and  door ; 

16  Great  big  people  perched  on  chairs, 

Stitching  tucks  and  mending  tears. 
Each  a  hill  that  I  could  climb. 
And  talking  nonsense  all  the  time  — 
0  dear  me, 

20  That  I  could  be 

A  sailor  on  the  rain-pool  sea, 
A  climber  in  the  clover  tree, 
And  just  come  back,  a  sleepyhead, 
Late  at  night  to  go  to  bed. 

pied  :  spotted. 


BOOK  FOUR  25 

OLD  PIPES  AND  THE  DRYAD  ^ 
Frank  Richard  Stockton 

Frank  Richakd  Stockton  (1834-1902),  a  humorous  and 
original  writer  of  short  stories,  was  born  in  Philadelphia.  He 
added  to  his  high-school  education  by  wide  reading  and  early 
attempts  at  writing.  To  please  his  father  he  learned  to  be  a 
wood  engraver,  but  used  his  art  only  to  illustrate  his  own  tales  5 
and  verse.  For  a  while  he  was  connected  with  Scribnefs  Motithly, 
and  wrote  for  that  magazine  his  first  well-known  serial,  Ritd- 
der  Grange.  For  several  years  he  was  one  of  the  editors  of  St. 
Nicholas. 

Stockton  is  at  his  best  in  such  short  stories  as  T,h€  Lady  or  10 
the  Tiger?,  The  Bee  Man  of  Orn,  and  Negative  Gravity.  ■'His  Ting-a- 
Ling  Tales,  Fanciful  Tales,  Tales  Out  of  School,  etc.,  are  charming 
to  children. 

A  mountain  brook  ran  through  a  little  village. 
Over  the  brook  there  was  a  narrow  bridge,  and  15 
from  the  bridge  a  footpath  led  out  from  the  village 
and  up  the  hillside,  to  the  cottage  of  Old  Pipes 
and  his  mother. 

For  many,  many  years  Old  Pipes  had  been  em- 
ployed by  the  villagers  to  pipe  the  cattle  down  20 
from  the  hills.    Every  afternoon,  an  hour  before 
sunset,  he  would  sit  on  a  rock  ii;i  front  of  his  cot- 
tage and  play  on  his  pipes.    Then  all  the  flocks 

1  From  Fanciful  Tales.    Copyright,  1894.    Charles  Scribner's  Sons, 
Publishers. 


26  THE  HILL  READERS 

and  herds  that  were  grazing  on  the  mountains 
would  hear  him,  wherever  they  might  happen  to 
be,  and  would  come  down  to  the  village,  —  the 
cows  by  the  easiest  paths,  the  sheep  by  those  not 
5  quite  so  easy,  and  the  goats  by  the  steep  and  rocky 
ways  that  were  hardest  of  all. 

But  now,  for  a  year  or  more.  Old  Pipes  had  not 
piped  the  cattle  home.  It  is  true  that  every  after- 
noon he  sat  upon  the  rock  and  played  upon  his 

10  pipes ;  but  the  cattle  did  not  hear  him.  He  had 
grown  old,  and  his  breath  was  feeble.  The  echoes 
of  his  cheerful  notes,  which  used  to  come  from  the 
rocky  hill  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley,  were 
heard  no  more ;  and  twenty  yards  from  Old  Pipes 

15  one  could  scarcely  tell  what  tune  he  was  playing. 
He  had  become  somewhat  deaf,  and  did  not  know 
that  the  sound  of  his  pipes  was  so  thin  and  weak, 
and  that  the  cattle  did  not  hear  him. 

The  cows,  the  sheep,  and  the  goats  came  down 

20  every  afternoon  as  before;  but  this  was  because 
two  boys  and  a  girl  were  sent  up  after  them. 
The  villagers  did  not  wish  the  good  old  man  to 
know  that  his  piping  was  no  longer  of  any  use ; 
so  they  paid  him  his  little  salary  every  month, 

25  and  said  nothing  about  the  two  boys  and  the 
girl. 


BOOK   FOUR  27 

Old  Pipes's  mother  was,  of  course,  a  great  deal 
older  than  he  was,  and  was  as  deaf  as  a  gate, — 
posts,  latch,  hinges,  and  all,  —  and  she  never  knew 
that  the  sound  of  her  son's  pipe  did  not  spread 
over  all  the  mountain  side  and  echo  back  strong  5 
and  clear  from  the  opposite  hills.  She  was  very 
fond  of  Old  Pipes,  and  proud  of  his  piping ;  and 
as  he  was  so  much  younger  than  she  was,  she 
never  thought  of  him  as  being  very  old.  She 
cooked  for  him,  and  made  his  bed,  and  mended  10 
his  clothes,  and  they  lived  very  comfortably  on 
his  little  salary. 

One  afternoon  at  the  end  of  the  month,  when 
Old  Pipes  had  finished  his  piping,  he  took  his 
stout  staff  and  went  down  the  hill  to  the  village  15 
to  receive  the  money  for  his  month's  work.  The 
path  seemed  a  great  deal  steeper  and  more  difficult 
than  it  used  to  be,  and  Old  Pipes  thought  that  it 
must  have  been  washed  by  the  rains  and  greatly 
damaged.  He  remembered  it  as  a  path  that  was  20 
quite  easy  to  traverse  either  up  or  down.  But  Old 
Pipes  had  been  a  very  active  man,  and  as  his  mother 
was  so  much  older  than  he  was,  he  never  thought 
of  himself  as  aged  and  infirm. 

When  the  Chief  Villager  had  paid  him,  and  he  25 
had  talked  a  little  while  with  some  of  his  friends, 


28  THE  HILL   READERS 

Old  Pipes  started  to  go  home.  But  when  he  had 
crossed  the  bridge  over  the  brook,  and  gone  a  short 
distance  up  the  hillside,  he  became  very  tired  and 
sat  down  upon  a  stone.    He  had  not  been  sitting 

5  there  half  a  minute  when  along  came  two  boys 
and  a  girl. 

"  Children,"  said  Old  Pipes,  "  I  'm  very  tired  to- 
night, and  I  don't  believe  I  can  climb  up  this  steep 
path  to  my  home.    I  think  I  shall  have  to  ask  you 

10  to  help  me." 

"We  will  do  that,"  said  the  boys  and  the  girl, 
quite  cheerfully;  and  one  boy  took  him  by  the 
right  hand  and  the  other  by  the  left,  while  the 
girl   pushed   him  in  the  back.     In  this  way  he 

15  went  up  the  hill  quite  easily,  and  soon  reached 
his  cottage  door.  Old  Pipes  gave  each  of  the  three 
children  a  copper  coin,  and  then  they  sat  down 
for  a  few  minutes'  rest  before  starting  back  to 
the  village. 

20  "  I  'm  sorry  that  I  tired  you  so  much,"  said  Old 
Pipes. 

"  Oh,  that  would  not  have  tired  us,"  said  one  of 
the  boys,  "  if  we  had  not  been  so  far  to-day  after 
the  cows,  the  sheep,  and  the  goats.    They  rambled 

25  high  up  on  the  mountain,  and  we  never  before  had 
such  a  time  finding  them." 


BOOK  FOUR  29 

"  Had  to  go  after  the  cows,  the  sheep,  and  the 
goats  !  "  exclaimed  Old  Pipes.  "  What  do  you 
mean  by  that  ?  " 

The  girl,  who  stood  behind  the  old  man,  shook 
her  head,  put  her  hand  on  her  mouth,  and  made    s 
all  sorts  of  signs  to  the  boy  to  stop  talking  on  this 
subject;  but  he  did  not  notice  her,  and  promptly 
answered  Old  Pipes. 

"  Why,  you  see,  good  sir,"  said  he,  "  that  as  the 
cattle  can't  hear  your  pipes  now,  somebody  has  to  lo 
go  after  them  every  evening  to  drive  them  down 
from  the  mountain,  and  the  Chief  Villager  has 
hired  us  three  to  do  it.  Generally  it  is  not  very 
hard  work,  but  to-night  the  cattle  had  wandered 
far."  15 

"  How  long  have  you  been  doing  this  ?  "  asked 
the  old  man. 

The  girl  shook  her  head  and  clapped  her  hand 
on  her  mouth  as  before,  but  the  boy  went  on. 

"  I  think  it  is  about  a  year  now,"  he  said,  "  since  20 
the  people  first  felt  sure  that  the  cattle  could  not 
hear  your  pipes ;  and  from  that  time  we  've  been 
driving  them  down.    But  we  are  rested  now, 'and 
will  go  home.    Good-night,  sir." 

The  three  children  then  went  down  the  hill,  the  25 
girl  scolding  the  boy  all  the  way  home.    Old  Pipes 


30  THE  HILL   READERS 

stood  silent  a  few  moments,  and  then  he  went  into 
his  cottage. 

"  Mother !  "   he   shouted  ;   "  did  you  hear  what 
those  children  said  ?  " 

5  "  Children  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  woman ;  "  I  did 
not  hear  them.  I  did  not  know  there  were  any 
children  here." 

Then  Old  Pipes  told  his  mother  —  shouting  very 
loudly  to  make  her  hear  —  how  the  two  boys  and 

10  the  girl  had  helped  him  up  the  hill,  and  what  he 
had  heard  about  his  piping  and  the  cattle. 

''  They   can't    hear    you  ? "    cried    his    mother. 
"Why,  what  's  the  matter  with  the  cattle?" 
"  Ah,  me  !  "  said  Old  Pipes  ;  "  I  don't  believe 

15  there  's  anything  the  matter  with  the  cattle.  It 
must  be  with  me  and  my  pipes  that  there  is  some- 
thing the  matter.  But  one  thing  is  certain  :  if  I  do 
not  earn  the  wages  the  Chief  Villager  pays  me,  I 
shall  not  take  them.    I  shall  go  straight  down  to  the 

20  village  and  give  back  the  money  I  received  to-day." 

"  Nonsense ! "    cried    his    mother.     ''I'm   sure 

you  've  piped  as  well  as  you  could,  and  no  more 

can  be  expected.    And  what  are  we  to  do  without 

the  money?" 

25  "  I  don't  know,"  said  Old  Pipes ;  "  but  I  'm  going 
down  to  the  village  to  pay  it  back." 


BOOK  FOUR  31 

The  sun  had  now  set ;  but  the  moon  was  shin- 
ing very  brightly  on  the  hillside,  and  Old  Pipes 
could  see  his  way  very  well.  He  did  not  take  the 
same  path  by  which  he  had  gone  before,  but  fol- 
lowed another,  which  led  among  the  trees  upon  the  5 
hillside,  and,  though  longer,  was  not  so  steep. 

When  he  had  gone  about  halfway  the  old  man 
sat  down  to  rest,  leaning  his  back  against  a  great 
oak  tree.    As  he  did  so,  he  heard  a  sound  like 
knocking  inside  the  tree,  and  then  a  voice  said :  10 
"  Let  me  out !  let  me  out!  " 

Old  Pipes  instantly  forgot  that  he  was  tired, 
and  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  This  must  be  a  Dryad 
tree  !"  he  exclaimed.    "  If  it  is,  I  '11  let  her  out." 

Old  Pipes  had  never,  to  his  knowledge,  seen  a  15 
Dryad  tree,  but  he  knew  there  were  such  trees  on 
the  hillsides  and  the  mountains,  and  that  Dryads 
lived  in  them.    He  knew,  too,  that  in  the  summer 
time,  on  those  days  when  the  moon  rose  before  the 
sun  went  down,  a  Dryad  could  come  out  of  her  20 
tree  if  any  one  could  find  the  key  which  locked 
her  in,  and  turn  it.    Old  Pipes  closely  examined 
the  trunk  of  the  tree,  which  stood  in  the  full  moon- 
light.   "If  I  see  that  key,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  siu-ely 
turn  it."    Before  long  he    found  a  piece  of  bark  25 
standing  out  from  the  tree,  which  looked  to  him 


32  THE  HILL  READERS 

very  much  like  the  handle  of  a  key.  He  took  hold 
of  it,  and  found  he  could  turn  it  quite  around.  As  he 
did  so,  a  large  part  of  the  side  of  the  tree  was  pushed 
open,  and  a  beautiful  Dryad  stepped  quickly  out. 

5  For  a  moment  she  stood  motionless,  gazing  on 
the  scene  before  her,  — the  tranquil  valley,  the  hills, 
the  forest,  and  the  mountain  side,  all  lying  in  the 
soft,  clear  light  of  the  moon.  "  Oh,  lovely !  lovely ! " 
she  exclaimed.    "  How  long  it  is  since  I  have  seen 

10  anything  like  this!  "  And  then,  turning  to  Old 
Pipes,  she  said :  "  How  good  of  you  to  let  me  out ! 
I  am  so  happy  and  so  thankful  that  I  must  kiss 
you,  you  dear  old  man!  "  And  she  threw  her  arms 
around  the  neck  of  Old  Pipes,  and  kissed  him  on 

15  both  cheeks. 

"  You  don't  know,"  she  then  went  on  to  say, 
"  how  doleful  it  is  to  be  shut  up  so  long  in  a  tree. 
I  don't  mind  it  in  the  winter,  for  then  I  am  glad 
to  be  sheltered,  but  in  summer  it  is  a  rueful  thing 

20  not  to  be  able  to  see  all  the  beauties  of  the  world. 
And  it 's  ever  so  long  since  I  've  been  let  out.  Peo- 
ple so  seldom  come  this  way ;  and  when  they  do 
come  at  the  right  time,  they  either  don't  hear  me 
or  they  are  frightened  and  run  away.    But  you, 

25  you  dear  old  man,  you  were  not  frightened,  and 
you  looked  and  looked  for  the  key,  and  you  let  me 


33 


34  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

out !  And  now  I  shall  not  have  to  go  back  J-ill  win- 
ter has  come,  and  the  air  grows  cold.  Oh,  it  is 
glorious !  What  can  I  do  for  you,  to  show  you 
how  grateful  I  am?" 

5  "I  am  very  glad,"  said  Old  Pipes,  "that  I  let 
you  out,  since  I  see  that  it  makes  you  so  happy ; 
but  I  must  admit  that  I  tried  to  find  the  key  be- 
cause I  had  a  great  desire  to  see  a  Dryad.  But  if 
you  wish  to  do  something  for  me,  you  can,  if  you 

10  happen  to  be  going  down  toward  the  village." 

"  To  the  village !  "  exclaimed  the  Dryad.    "  I  will 
go  anywhere  for  you,  my  kind  old  benefactor." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Old  Pipes,  "  I  wish  you  would 
take  this  little  bag  of  money  to  the  Chief  Villager 

15  and  tell  him  that  Old  Pipes  cannot  receive  pay 
for  the  services  which  he  does  not  perform.  It  is 
now  more  than  a  year  that  I  have  not  been  able  to 
make  the  cattle  hear  me  when  I  piped  to  call  them 
home.    I  did  not  know  this  until  to-night;  but  now 

20  that  I  know  it,  I  cannot  keep  the  money,  and  so 
I  send  it  back."  And,  handing  the  little  bag  to 
the  Dryad,  he  bade  her  good  night,  and  turned 
toward  his  cottage. 

"Good  night,"  said  the  Dryad.    "And  I  thank 

25  jou  over,  and  over,  and  over  again,  you  good 
old  man ! " 


BOOK  FOUE  35 

Old  Pipes  walked  toward  his  home,  very  glad 
to  be  saved  the  fatigue  of  going  all  the  way  down 
to  the  village  and  back  again.  "  To  be  sure,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "this  path  does  not  seem  at  all 
steep,  and  I  can  walk  along  it  very  easily;  but  5 
it  would  have  tired  me  dreadfully  to  come  up  all 
the  way  from  the  village,  especially  as  I  could  not 
have  expected  those  children  to  help  me  again." 
When  he  reached  home  his  mother  was  surprised 
to  see  him  returning  so  soon.  10 

"  What !  "  she  exclaimed ;  "  have  you  already 
come  back  ?  What  did  the  Chief  Villager  say  ? 
Did  he  take  the  money?" 

Old  Pipes  was  just  about  to  tell  her  that  he  had 
sent  the  money  to  the  village  by  a  Dryad,  when  he  15 
suddenly  reflected  that  his  mother  would  be  sure 
to  disapprove  such  a  proceeding,  and  so  he  merely 
said  he  had  sent  it  by  a  person  whom  he  had  met. 

"And  how  do  you  know  that  the  person  will 
ever  take  it   to   the  Chief   Villager?"   cried  his  20 
mother.    "  You  will  lose  it,  and  the  villagers  will 
never  get  it.    Oh,  Pipes  !  Pipes  !  when  will  you  be 
old  enough  to  have  ordinary  common  sense?  " 

Old  Pipes  considered  that,  as  he  was  already 
seventy  years  of  age,  he  could  scarcely  expect  to  25 
grow  any  wiser;  but  he  made  no  remark  on  this 


36  THE  HILL  READERS 

subject,  and,  saying  that  he  doubted  not  that  the 
money  would  go  safely  to  its  destination,  he  sat 
down  to  his  supper.  His  mother  scolded  him 
roundly,  but  he  did  not  mind  it ;  and  after  supper 
5  he  went  out  and  sat  on  a  rustic  chair  in  front  of 
the  cottage  to  look  at  the  moonht  village,  and  to 
wonder  whether  or  not  the  Chief  Villager  really 
received  the  money.  While  he  was  doing  these 
two  things  he  went  fast  asleep. 

10  When  Old  Pipes  left  the  Dryad  she  did  not  go 
down  to  the  village  with  the  little  bag  of  money. 
She  held  it  in  her  hand,  and  thought  about  what 
she  had  heard.  "  This  is  a  good  and  honest  old 
man,"  she  said ;  "  and  it  is  a  shame  that  he  should 

15  lose  this  money.  He  looked  as  if  he  needed  it,  and 
I  don't  believe  the  people  in  the  village  will  take 
it  from  one  who  has  served  them  so  long.  Often, 
when  in  my  tree,  have  I  heard  the  sweet  notes  of 
his  pipes.    I  am  going  to  take  the  money  back  to 

20  him."  She  did  not  start  immediately  because  there 
were  so  many  beautiful  things  to  look  at ;  but  after 
a  while  she  went  up  to  the  cottage,  and,  finding 
Old  Pipes  asleep  in  his  chair,  she  slipped  the  little 
bag  into  his  coat  pocket,  and  silently  sped  away. 

26  The  next  day  Old  Pipes  told  his  mother  that  he 
would  go  up  the  mountain  and  cut  some  wood. 


BOOK  FOUR  37 

He  had  a  right  to  get  wood  from  the  mountain, 
but  for  a  long  time  he  had  been  content  to  pick  up 
the  dead  branches  which  lay  about  his  cottage. 
To-day,  however,  he  felt  so  strong  and  vigorous 
that  he  thought  he  would  go  and  cut  some  fuel  5 
that  would  be  better  than  this.  He  worked  all  the 
morning,  and  when  he  came  back  he  did  not  feel 
at  all  tired,  and  he  had  a  very  good  appetite  for 
his  dinner. 

Now  Old  Pipes  knew  a  good  deal  about  Dryads;  10 
but  there  was  one  thing  which,  although  he  had 
heard,  he  had  forgotten.    This  was,  that  a-kiss  from 
a  Dryad  made  a  person  ten  years  younger. 

The  people  of  the  village  knew  this,  and  they 
were  very  careful  not  to  let  any  child  of  ten  years  15 
or  younger  go  into  the  woods  where  the  Dryads 
were  supposed  to  be ;  for,  if  they  should  chance  to 
be  kissed  by  one  of  these  tree  nymphs,  they  would 
be  set  back  so  far  that  they  would  cease  to  exist. 

A  story  was  told  in  the  village  that  a  very  bad  20 
boy  of  eleven  once  ran  away  into  the  woods,  and 
had  an  adventure  of  this  kind ;  and  when  his 
mother  found  him  he  was  a  little  baby  of  one  year 
old.  Taking  advantage  of  her  opportunity,  she 
brought  him  up  more  carefully  than  she  had  done  25 
before,  and  he  grew  to  be  a  very  good  boy  indeed. 


38  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

Now  Old  Pipes  had  been  kissed  twice  by  the 
Dryad,  once  on  each  cheek,  and  he  therefore  felt 
as  vigorous  and  active  as  when  he  was  a  hale  man 
of  fifty.    His  mother  noticed  how  much  work  he 

5  was  doing,  and  told  him  that  he  need  not  t-ry  in 
that  way  to  make  up  for  the  loss  of  his  piping 
wages;  for  he  would  only  tire  himself  out  and 
get  sick.  But  her  son  answered  that  he  had  not 
felt  so  well  for  years,  and  that  he  was  quite  able 

10  to  work. 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  Old  Pipes,  for 
the  first  time  that  day,  put  his  hand  in  his  coat 
pocket,  and  there,  to  his  amazement,  he  found  the 
little  bag  of  money.    "  Well,  well !  "  he  exclaimed ; 

15  "  I  am  stupid,  indeed  !  I  really  thought  that  I  had 
seen  a  Dryad ;  but  when  I  sat  down  by  that  big 
oak  tree  I  must  have  gone  to  sleep  and  dreamed  it 
all ;  and  then  I  came  home,  thinking  I  had  given 
the  money  to  a  Dryad,  when  it  was  in  my  pocket 

20  all  the  time.  But  the  Chief  Villager  shall  have  the 
money.  I  shall  not  take  it  to  him  to-day,  but 
to-morrow  I  wish  to  go  to  the  village  to  see  some 
of  my  old  friends ;  and  then  I  shall  give  up  the 
money." 

25  Toward  the  close  of  the  afternoon  Old  Pipes,  as 
had  been  his  custom  for  so  many  years,  took  his 


BOOK  FOUR  39 

pipes  from  the  shelf  on  which  they  lay,  and  went 
out  to  the  rock  in  front  of  the  cottage. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  cried  his  mother. 
"If  you  will  not  be  paid,  why  do  you  pipe  V 

"  I  am  going  to  pipe  for  my  own  pleasure,"  said    5 
her  son.    "  I  am  used  to  it,  and  I  do  not  wish  to 
give  it  up.    It  does  not  matter  now  whether  the 
cattle  hear  me  or  not,  and  I  am  sure  that  my  piping 
will  injure  no  one." 

When  the  good  man  began  to  play  upon  his  lo 
favorite  instrument  he  was  astonished  at  the  sound 
that  came  from  it.  The  beautiful  notes-  of  the 
pipes  sounded  clear  and  strong  down  into  the  val- 
ley, and  then  spread  over  the  hills,  and  up  the 
sides  of  the  mountain  beyond,  while,  after  a  little  is 
interval,  an  echo  came  back  from  the  rocky  hill 
on  the  other  side  of  the  valley. 

"Ha!  ha!"  he  cried;  "what  has  happened  to 
my  pipes  ?  They  must  have  been  stopped  up  of 
late,  but  now  they  are  as  clear  and  good  as  ever."  20 

Again  the  merry  notes  went  sounding  far  and 
wide.  The  cattle  on  the  mountain  heard  them,  and 
those  that  were  old  enough  remembered  how  these 
notes  had  called  them  from  their  pastures  every 
evening,  and  so  they  started  down  the  mountain  25 
side,  the  others  following. 


40  THE  HILL  READERS 

The  merry  notes  were  heard  in  the  village  below, 
and  the  people  were  much  astonished  thereby. 
"Why,  who  can  be  blowing  the  pipes  of  Old 
Pipes  ? "   they  said.     But,  as  they  were  all  very 

5  busy,  no  one  went  up  to  see.  One  thing,  however, 
was  plain  enough :  the  cattle  were  coming  down 
the  mountain.  And  so  the  two  boys  and  the  girl 
did  not  have  to  go  after  them,  and  had  an  hour 
for  play,  for  which  they  were  very  glad. 

10  The  next  morning  Old  Pipes  started  down  to  the 
village  with  his  money,  and  on  the  way  he  met  the 
Dryad.  "  Oh,  ho  !  "  he  cried  ;  "  is  that  you  ?  Why, 
I  thought  my  letting  you  out  of  the  tree  was  noth- 
ing but  a  dream." 

15  "A  dream!"  cried  the  Dryad.  "If  you  only 
knew  how  happy  you  have  made  me,  you  would 
not  think  it  merely  a  dream.  And  has  it  not 
benefited  you  ?  Do  you  not  feel  happier  ?  Yes- 
terday I  heard  you  playing  beautifully  on  your 

20  pipes." 

"  Yes,  yes!  "  cried  he.  "I  did  not  understand  it 
before,  but  I  see  it  all  now.  I  have  really  grown 
younger.  I  thank  you,  I  thank  you,  good  Dryad, 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.    It  was  the  finding 

25  of  the  money  in  my  pocket  that  made  me  think 
it  was  a  dream." 


BOOK  FOUE.  41 

''  Oh,  I  put  it  in  when  you  were  asleep,"  she 
said,  laughing,  "  because  I  thought  you  ought  to 
keep  it.  Good-by,  kind,  honest  man.  May  you  live 
long,  and  be  as  happy  as  I  am  now." 

Old  Pipes  was  greatly  delighted  when  he  under-   5 
stood  that  he  was  really  a  younger  man ;  but  that 
made  no  difference  about  the  money,  and  he  kept 
on  his  way  to  the  village.    As  soon  as  he  reached 
it,  he  was  eagerly  questioned  as  to  w4io  had  been 
playing  his  pipes  the  evening  before,  and  when  the  lo 
people  heard  that  it  was  himself  they  were  very 
much  surprised.    Thereupon  Old  Pipes  tdd  what 
had  happened  to  him,  and  then  there  was  greater 
wonder,  with   hearty   congratulations  and   hand- 
shakes ;  for  Old  Pipes  was  liked  by  every  one.    The  15 
Chief  Villager  refused  to  take  his   money;    and 
although  Old  Pipes  said  that  he  had  not  earned  it, 
every  one  present  insisted  that,  as  he  would  now 
play  on  his  pipes  as  before,  he  should  lose  noth- 
ing because,  for  a  time,  he  was  unable  to  perform  20 
his  duty. 

So  Old  Pipes  was  obliged  to  keep  his  money, 
and  after  an  hour  or  two  spent  in  conversation 
with  his  friends  he  returned  to  his  cottage. 

traverse:  wander  over.  —  rueful:  sorrowful.  —  destination:  the 
end  of  a  journey. 


42  THE  HILL  READERS 

THE  JAPANESE  MIRKOR^ 

T.  Hasegawa 

Note.  This  story,  popular  in  Japan,  illustrates  the  kind  of 
tales  that  please  the  little  brown  children  of  the  Flowery  King- 
dom. It  is  worth  noting  that  children's  stories  of  all  lands  are 
not  markedly  different. 

5  A  long,  long  time  ago  there  lived  in  a  quiet 
spot  a  young  man  and  his  wife.  They  had  one 
child,  a  little  daughter,  whom  they  both  loved  with 
all  their  hearts.  I  cannot  tell  you  their  names,  for 
they  have  been  long  since  forgotten,  but  the  name 

10  of  the  place  where  they  lived  was  Matsuyama. 

It  happened  once,  while  the  little  girl  was  still 
a  baby,  that  the  father  was  obliged  to  go  to  the 
great  city,  the  capital  of  Japan,  upon  some  busi- 
ness.   It  was  too  far  for  the  mother  and  her  little 

15  baby  to  go,  so  he  set  out  alone,  after  bidding  them 
good-by  and  promising  to  bring  them  home  some 
pretty  presents. 

The  mother  had  never  been  farther  from  home 
than  the  next  village,  and  she  could  not  help  being 

20  a  little  frightened  at  the  thought  of  her  husband's 
taking  such  a  long  journey;  and  yet  she  was  a 
little  proud,  too,  for  he  was  the  first  man  in  all 

1  From  Japanese  Fairy  Tales.    Tokyo. 


BOOK  FOUR  43 

that  countryside  who  had  been  to  the  big  town 
where  the  King  and  his  great  lords  lived,  and 
where  there  were  so  many  beautiful  and  curious 
things  to  be  seen. 

At  last  the  time  came  when  she  might  expect   5 
her  husband  back,  so  she  dressed  the  baby  in  her 
best  clothes,  and  herself  put  on  a  pretty  blue  dress 
which  she  knew  her  husband  liked. 

You  may  fancy  how  glad  this  good  wife  was  to 
see  him  come  home  safe  and  sound,  and  how  the  lo 
little  girl  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed  with 
delight  when  she  saw  the  pretty  toys  her  father 
had  brought  her.  He  had  much  to  tell  of  all  the 
wonderful  things  he  had  seen  upon  the  journey 
and  in  the  town  itself.  15 

''I  have  brought  you  a  very  pretty  thing,"  said 
he  to  his  wife ;  "  it  is  called  a  mirror.  Look,  and 
tell  me  what  you  see  inside." 

He  gave  her  a  plain  white  wooden  box,  in 
which,  when  she  had  opened  it,  she  found  a  round  20 
piece  of  metal.  One  side  was  ornamented  wdth 
raised  figures  of  birds  and  flowers ;  the  other  side 
was  bright  as  the  clearest  crystal.  Into  it  the 
young  mother  looked  with  delight  and  astonish- 
ment, for  from  its  depths  was  looking  at  her,  with  25 
parted  lips  and  bright  eyes,  a  smiling,  happy  face. 


44 


THE  HILL  READERS 


"What  do  you  see?"  again  asked  the  husband, 

pleased  at  her  astonishment,  and  glad  to  show  that 

he  had  learned  something  while  he  had  been  away. 

**I  see  a  pretty  woman  looking  at  me,  and  she 

5  moves  her  lips  as  if  she  were  speaking,  and  —  dear 


^°^  WiwMlillHr  JMll . 


me !  how  odd  !  —  she  has  on  a  blue  dress  just  like 


mme. 


"Why,  you  silly  woman!  it  is  your  own  face 
that  you  see ! "  said  the  husband,  proud  of  know- 
10  mg  something  that  his  wife  did  n't  know.  "That 
round  piece  of  metal  is  called  a  mirror.  In  the 
town  everybody  has  one,  although  we  have  not 
seen  them  in  this  country  place  before." 

The  wife  was  charmed  with  her  present,  and 

15  for  a  few  days  could  not  look  into  the  mirror 

often  enough,  for  you  must  remember  that,  as  this 


BOOK  FOUR  45 

was  the  first  time  she  had  seen  a  mirror,  so,  of 
course,  it  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  seen  the 
reflection  of  her  own  pretty  face.  But  she  con- 
sidered such  a  wonderful  thing  far  too  precious 
for  every-day  use,  and  soon  shut  it  up  in  its  box  5 
again,  and  put  it  away  carefully  among  her  most 
valued  treasures. 

Years  passed  on,  and  the  husband  and  wife  still 
lived  happily.  The  joy  of  their  hfe  was  their  little 
daughter,  who  grew  up  the  very  image  of  her  10 
mother,  and  who  was  so  dutiful  and  affectionate 
that  everybody  loved  her.  Mindful  of  her  own 
little  passing  vanity  on  finding  herself  so  lovely, 
the  mother  kept  the  mirror  carefully  hidden 
away,  fearing  that  the  use  of  it  might  breed  a  15 
spirit  of  pride  in  her  little  girl. 

She  never  spoke  of  it,  and  as  for  the  father,  he 
had  forgotten  all  about  it.    So  it  happened  that 
the  daughter  grew  up  as  simple  as  the  mother  had 
been,  and  knew  nothing  of  her  own  good  looks,  or  20 
of  the  mirror  which  would  have  reflected  them. 

But  by  and  by  a  terrible  misfortune  happened  to 
this  happy  little  family.  The  good,  kind  mother 
fell  sick ;  and,  although  her  daughter  waited  upon 
her  day  and  night  with  loving  care,  she  grew  worse  25 


46  THE  HILL  READERS 

and  worse,  until  at  last  there  was  no  hope  but 

that  she  must  die. 

When  she  found  that  she  must  so  soon  leave  her 

husband  and  child  the  poor  woman  felt  very  sor- 
6  rowful,  grieving  for  those  she  was  going  to  leave 

behind,  and  most  of  all  for  her  little  daughter. 
She  called  the  girl  to  her  and  said  :  "  My  darling 

child,  you  know  that  I  am  very  sick ;  soon  I  must 

die,  and  leave  your  dear  father  and  you  alone. 
10  When  I  am  gone  promise  me  that  you  will  look 

into  this  mirror  every  night  and  every  morning; 

there  you  will  see  me  and  know  that  I  am  still 

watching  over  you." 

With  these  words  she  took  the  mirror  from  its 
15  hiding  place  and  gave  it  to  her  daughter.    The 

child    promised    with    many    tears;    and    so    the 

mother,  seeming  now  calm  and  resigned,  died  a 

short  time  after. 

Now  this  obedient  and  dutiful  daughter  never 
20  forgot  her  mother's  last  request,  but  each  morning 

and  evening  took  the  mirror  from  its  hiding  place 

and  looked  in  it  long  and  earnestly.    There  she 

saw  the  bright  and   smiling  vision  of   her   lost 

mother;  not  pale  and  sickly  as  in  her  last  days, 
25  but  the  beautiful  young  mother  of  long  ago.    To 

her  at  night  she  told  the  story  of  the  trials  and 


BOOK  FOUR  47 

difficulties  of  the  day ;  to  her  in  the  morning  she 
looked  for  sympathy  and  encouragement  in  what- 
ever might  be  in  store  for  her. 

So  day  by  day  she  lived  as  in  her  mother's 
sight,  strivmg  still  to  please  her  as  she  had  done  5 
in  her  lifetime,  and  careful  always  to  avoid  what- 
ever might  pain  or  grieve  her.  Her  greatest  joy 
was  to  be  able  to  look  in  the  mirror  and  say, 
"  Mother,  I  have  been  to-day  what  you  would  wish 
me  to  be."  10 

•  Seeing  her  every  night  and  morning,  without 
fail,  look  into  the  mirror  and  seem  to  hold  con- 
verse with  it,  her  father  at  length  asked  her  the 
reason  of  her  strange  behavior. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  I  look  in  the  mirror  every  15 
day  to  see  my  dear  mother  and  to  talk  with  her." 

Then  she  told  him  of  her  mother's  dying  wish, 
and  how  she  had  never  failed  to  fulfill  it. 

Touched  by  so  much  simplicity,  and  such  faith- 
ful, loving  obedience,  the  father  shed  tears  of  pity  20 
and  affection.  Nor  could  he  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
tell  the  child  that  the  image  she  saw  in  the  mirror 
was  but  the  reflection  of  her  own  sweet  face,  by 
constant  sympathy  and  association  becoming  more 
and  more  like  her  mother's  day  by  day.  25 

converse :  talk. 


48 


THE  HILL  READERS 


BOB  WHITE 


George  Cooper 


George  Cooper  (1820-1876)  was  an  English  musician  and 
author.  He  is  widely  known  from  his  books  on  the  organ,  and 
from  some  exquisite  nature  poems. 


10 


I  see  you  on  the  zigzag  rails, 

You  cheery  little  fellow ! 
While  purple  leaves  are  whirling  down, 

And  scarlet,  brown,  and  yellow. 
I  hear  you  when  the  air  is  full 

Of  snow-down  of  the  thistle ; 
All  in  your  speckled  jacket  trim, 

"  Bob  White  !    Bob  White !  "  you  whistle. 


Tall  amber  sheaves,  in  rustling  rows, 
Are  nodding  there  to  greet  you ; 


BOOK  rouK  49 

I  know  that  you  are  out  for  play  — 

How  I  should  like  to  meet  you ! 
Though  blithe  of  voice,  so  shy  you  are. 

In  this  delightful  weather ; 
What  splendid  playmates  you  and  I,  ^ 

Bob  White,  would  make  together ! 

There,  you  are  gone  !  but  far  away 

I  hear  your  whistle  falling. 
Ah !  maybe  it  is  hide-and-seek, 

And  that 's  why  you  are  calling.  lo 

Along  those  hazy  uplands  wide 

We  'd  be  such  merry  rangers ; 
What  !  silent  now,  and  hidden  too  ? 

Bob  White,  don't  let 's  be  strangers. 

Perhaps  you  teach  your  brood  the  game,  is 

In  yonder  rainbowed  thicket. 
While  winds  are  playing  with  the  leaves. 

And  softly  creaks  the  cricket. 
"  Bob  White  !  Bob  White  !  "  —  again  J  hear 

That  blithely  whistled  chorus.  20 

Why  should  we  not  companions  be  ? 

One  Father  watches  o'er  us  ! 

amber:  yellow.  —  rangers:  rovers. 


50  THE  HILL  READERS 

THE  NUN'S  PRIEST'S  TALE 

Geoffrey  Chaucer 

Geoffrey  Chaucer  (1340-1400)  has  often  been  called  the 
Father  of  English  Verse.     So  greatly  has  the  language  changed 
since  his  time  that  modern  readers  find  his  poetry  hard  to  under- 
stand.   The  following  is  an    adaptation  of   one  of   his  famous 
6   Canterbury  Tales. 

There  was  once  a  poor  widow,  feeble  and  bent 
down  with  the  weight  of  years,  who  dwelt  with  her 
two  daughters  in  a  small  cottage,  and  was  content 
with  humble  fare.    Three  large  sows,  three  kine, 

10  and  one  sheep  she  possessed,  and  these  furnished 
her  with  her  sole  means  of  support.  Therefore  it 
happened  that  the  household  ate  "many  a  slender 
mele"  of  milk  and  brown  bread,  while  some  bacon 
with  an  egg  or  two  composed  their  greatest  feasts. 

15  In  her  little  yard  the  widow  had  a  few  fowls,  one 
of  which  (a  cock  named  Chanticleer)  had  not  his 
equal  in  crowing. 

"  His  voice  was  merrier  than  the  merry  organ." 
He  wg,s  a  fine  fellow,  too,  to  look  at,  with  comb  of 

20  brilliant  red,  a  jet-black  bill,  and  his  feathers  like 
gold  for  richness  of  color. 

The  fairest  of  all  the  widow's  seven  hens  was 
Dame  Partlet,.  who  always  sat  next  to  Chanticleer 
on  the  perch  when  they  went  to  roost. 


BOOK  FOUR  51 

One  night  Chanticleer  made  such  dismal  noises  in 
his  dreams  that  Dame  Partlet  grew  alarmed,  and 
said  to  him :  "  What  ails  you  that  you  groan  in  this 
fashion?    You  are  generally  an  excellent  sleeper." 

^^Ah,  dear  dame,"  answered  the  cock,  as  he  5 
roused  himself  from  his  troubled  rest,  "you  will 
not  wonder  that  I  groaned  when  I  tell  you  the  ter- 
rible fright  I  have  had  in  my  sleep.  It  seemed  that 
within  our  own  yard  I  saw  a  horrible  beast  walk- 
ing. He  was  somewhat  hke  a  hound,  with  color  10 
betwixt  yellow  and  red,  and  his  ears  were  different 
from  the  rest  of  his  body,  being  black.  Then  his 
eyes  were  bright  and  fierce ;  it  was  the  glance  he 
seemed  to  give  me  that  doubtless  made  me  utter 
the  noises  which  alarmed  you  so  much."  15 

"  Well,"  cried  Partlet,  in  much  indignation,  "  if 
you  are  going  to  be  a  coward,  you  have  lost  your 
place  in  our  esteem.  I  wonder  you  are  not  ashamed 
to  speak  of  such  fear.  Ah  !  perhaps  you  have  been 
nothing  after  all  but  a  boaster,  else  you  would  not  20 
be  afraid  of  a  foolish  dream.  Dreams  come  some- 
times from  overindulgence  and  high  living.  Let 
me  advise  you,  as  there  is  no  apothecary  in  this 
town,  to  taste  some  herbs  that  I  will  find  in  the 
yard,  which  are  sure  to  benefit  you ;  if  you  do  not  25 
take  care,  you  will  have  a  fever  or  an  ague.    But 


52  THE  HILL  READERS 

think  no  more  of  your  fancy  of  to-night.    A  wise 
man  has  said,  'Never  pay  heed  to  dreams.'" 

Then  said  Chanticleer,  ''Madam,  I  doubt  not 
your  judgment  and  learning,  but  let  me  tell  you 

5  that  dreams  are  often  the  signs  of  joy." 

As  Chanticleer  finished  speaking  he  saw  that  it 
was  day,  so  he  flew  down  from  the  perch  and,  call- 
ing the  seven  hens  to  follow  him,  went  forth  into 
the  yard.    There  he  forgot  both  the  fears  and  the 

10  fancies  of  sleep. 

Time  passed,  and  on  a  fair  morning  in  early 
spring  Chanticleer  was  walking  proudly  at  the  head 
of  his  hens,  bidding  them  note  the  brightness  of  the 
sun  and  the  sweetness  of  the  birds'  songs.  "  Full  is 

15  mine  heart  of  revel  and  solace,"  he  said;  but  fre- 
quently sorrow  follows  close  on  joy,  and  sad  mis- 
fortune was  about  to  fall  on  the  fowl  yard. 

A  cunning  fox  had  come  out  of  his  hiding  in  the 
wood 'and,  bursting  through  the  hedges  of  the  poor 

20  widow's  piece  of  ground,  lay  concealed  in  the  yard, 
waiting  his  opportunity  to  fall  on  Chanticleer. 

It  so  fell  that  the  cock  saw  a  butterfly  on  the 
leaves  of  the  plants  amid  which  the  fox  was  lurk- 
ing, and,  approaching  nearer,  saw  the  intruder  and 

25  would  have  fled.  But  that  deceitful  animal  cried: 
**  Gentle  sir,  are  you  afraid  of  a  friend  like  myself  ? 


63 


64  •  THE  HILL  READERS 

Believe  me,  T  am  not  here  to  do  you  harm ;  I  come 
only  that  I  may  hear  you  sing,  and,  truly,  you 
have  a  voice  as  merry  and  sweet  as  any  angel  in 
heaven.    I  was  acquainted  with  your  father  and 

5  mother,  and  many  a  time  they  honored  me  by 
visiting  my  house.  With  the  exception  of  yourself, 
never  did  I  hear  cock  sing  so  beautifully  as  your 
noble  father;  and  how  he  would  stand  on  the  tips  of 
his  toes  to  make  his  voice  come  out  more  strongly ! " 

10  So  charmed  was  Chanticleer  by  this  flattery  that 
he  too  began  to  stretch  his  neck  and  flutter  his 
wings  and  crow  with  might  and  main ;  but  the  fox 
sprang  from  his  hiding  place,  caught  him  up,  and 
carried  him  off  to  his  hole  in  the  wood. 

15  ^  Never,  surely,  was  there  such  a  noise  as  the 
seven  hens  made  when  they  saw  their  defender 
borne  away.  .  The  widow  and  her  daughters  heard 
them,  and,  starting  up,  reached  their  door  just  in 
time  to  see  the  fox  darting  off  in  the  direction  of 

20  the  wood  with  the  helpless  cock  upon  his  back. 

"A-ha!  a-ha!  the  fox!"  they  cried,  and  began 

to  give  chase,  in  which  they  were  joined  by  all  the 

men  and  women  and  children  who  lived  within 

earshot  of  their  cries.    Even  the  animals  ran  with 

25  them,  —  cow,  calf,  and  pigs, —  for  they  were  fright- 
ened by  the  barking  of  the  dogs ;  the  ducks  cried ; 


BOOK  FOUE  /55 

the  geese  for  very  terror  flew  over  the  trees ;  the 
bees  swarmed  out  from  the  hives ;  and  never  was 
there  more  confusion  in  this  world  than  these  shriek- 
ing, shouting  people  made  as  the  fox  flew  off  to  the 
wood  with  Chanticleer  for  his  prey.  5 

Now,  mark  you,  my  friends,  how  fortune  may 
change  in  an  instant. 

As  the  poor  cock  lay  trembling  on  the  back  of 
his  foe  a  sudden  thought  prompted  him  to  say : 
"  Sir,  were  I  you,  I  should  presently  speak  ^o  these  10 
noisy  folk,  and  say,  ^I  have  gained  the  entrance 
to  the  wood,  and  I  will  devour  this  cock  in  spite 
of  all  your  efforts.'  " 

"  Yes,  so  loill  I  speak  to  them,"  replied  the  fox, 
well  pleased  with  the  suggestion.    But  as  he  opened  15 
his  mouth  Chanticleer  freed  himself  with  one  quick 
movement  and  fluttered  up  into  a  tree  overhead. 

"  Good  friend,"  cried  the  fox,  "  I  have  done  you 
a  great  wrong,  though  unintentionally.    I  ought 
not  to  have  dragged  you  away  from  your  home  and  20 
friends ;  but,  I  pray  you,  come  down  and  all  shall 
be  explained." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Chanticleer.  "  Once  you  have 
beguiled  me  with  your  flattery,  but  never  will  I  be 
deceived  by  your  smooth  words  again."  25 

From  Chaucer^s  Stories  Simply  Told 

Adapted  by  Mary  Seymour 


56  THE  HILL  READERS 

THE  OLD  BARN 

Madison  Cawein 

Madison  Cawein  (1865-  ),  an  American  poet  of  Hugue- 
not descent,  was  born  in  Louisville,  Kentucky.  He  early  devoted 
himself  to  poetry.  "  It  was,"  says  Edmund  Gosse,  "  Mr.  William 
Dean  Howells  who  first  drew  attention  to  the  originality  and 
6  beauty  of  Mr.  Cawein 's  poetry.  The  Kentucky  poet  had,  at  that 
time,  published  but  one  volume,  the  Blooms  of  the  Berry.  This 
was  followed,  in  1888,  by  the  Tiiumph  of  Music,  and  since  then 
hardly  a  year  has  passed  without  a  slender  sheaf  of  verse  from 
Mr.  Cawein's  garden." 

10  Low,  swallow-swept  and  gray, 

Between  the  orchard  and  the  spring, 
All  its  wide  windows  overflowing  hay. 
And  crannied  doors  a-swing, 
The  old  barn  stands  to-day. 

16  Deep  in  its  hay  the  Leghorn  hides 

A  round  white  nest ;  and,  humming  soft 
On  roof  and  rafter,  or  its  log-rude  sides, 
Black  in  the  sun-shot  loft, 
The  building  hornet  glides. 

20  Along  its  corn-crib,  cautiously 

As  thieving  fingers,  skulks  the  rat ; 

Or  in  warped  stalls  of  fragrant  timothy, 


BOOK  FOUR  57 

Gnaws  at  some  loosened  slat, 
Or  passes  shadowy. 

A  dream  of  drouth  made  audible 

Before  its  door,  hot,  smooth,  and  shrill 

All  day  the  locust  sings.  .  .  .   What  other  spell   5 

Shall  hold  it,  lazier  still 

Than  the  long  day's,  now  tell :  — 

Dusk  and  the  cricket  and  the  strain 

Of  tree-toad  and  of  frog ;  and  stars 

That  burn  above  the  rich  west's  ribbed  stain;  lo 

And  dropping  pasture  bars, 

And  cow-bells  up  the  lane. 

Night  and  the  moon  and  katydid. 

And  leaf -lisp  of  the  wind-touched  boughs ; 

And  mazy  shadows  that  the  fireflies  thrid ;        is 

And  sweet  breath  of  the  cows. 

And  the  lone  owl  here  hid. 

crannied  :  having  small  openings.  — thrid  :  to  make  one's  way 
througrh. 


58  THE  HILL  HEADERS 

THE  STORY  OF  AN  APPLE 

H.  L.  HuTT 

H.  L.  HuTT,  a  Canadian  teacher,  is  now  professor  of  horti- 
culture in  the  Ontario  Agricultural  College. 

One  evening  after  tea  I  had  just  settled  down 
in  my  easy-chair  for  a  glance  at  the  newspaper, 
6  when  my  trio  of  little  folk  pounced  upon  me  for 
a  new  story. 

"  A  fairy  story,"  said  Jean. 

"  No ;  one  about  wild  animals,"  said  Fred. 

"I  like  to  hear  about  what  you  did  when  you 
10  were  a  little  boy,"  said  Gordon. 

Here  was  too  much  of  a  variety  to  be  given  all 
at  once ;  so  I  said,  "  Look  at  those  beautiful  red 
apples  on  the  table.  Shouldn't  you  like  to  hear 
their  story?"  Fred  was  doubtful  whether  much 
15  of  a  story  could  be  told  about  apples ;  but  I  in- 
formed him  that  every  apple  has  a  history,  and 
some  have  very  interesting  ones.- 

"  What  variety  of  apple  is  that  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  A  Mcintosh,"  they  all  shouted  in  chorus ;  for 
20  they  had  been  learning  the  names  of  apples  and 
were  always  greatly  pleased  when  they  could  iden- 
tify a  variety  correctly. 


BOOK  FOUR  59 

"  How  do  you  suppose  it  got  that  name  ?  "  I  next 
inquired ;  but  as  this  was  too  much  for  them,  I 
said,  "  Well,  that  is  where  we  shall  begin  our 
story. 

"  Once  upon  a  time  (for  all  good  stories  begin  s 
that  way),  about  thirty  years  ago,  on  a  farm  near 
Dundela,  a  little  village  in  Dundas  County,  in  the 
St.  Lawrence  Valley,  lived  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Allan  Mcintosh.  He  was  one  of  the  early  settlers 
in  that  section,  and  had  cleared  off  most  of  the  lo 
forest  which  once  covered  his  fields,  only  a  few 
acres  having  been  left  for  bush.  The  bush  was 
the  favorite  resort  of  the  cows  when  the  weather 
became  warm  and  the  flies  were  troublesome. 

"  One  evening,  late  in  September,  when  Mr.  i5 
Mcintosh's  little  boys,  Allan  and  Harvey,  were 
hunting  through  the  bush  for  the  cows,  they  espied 
just  on  the  edge  of  a  clearing  a  little  tree  bearing 
near  its  top  a  number  of  bright  red  apples.  If  they 
had  discovered  it  sooner,  they  might  have  found  20 
many  more  on  the  lower  branches.  What  do  you 
suppose  had  become  of  them  ?  " 

"  The  cows  had  eaten  them,"  suggested  Fred. 

"Yes,  the  cows  had  found  them  first;  but  the 
boys  were  soon  up  the  tree,  making  sure  that  the  25 
cows  would  get  no  more  of  them. 


60  THE  HILL  READERS 

"The  apples  were  at  that  time  hardly  mellow 
enough  for  eating,  but  that  did  not  prevent  the 
boys  from  sampling  them ;  and  they  declared  that 
they  were  the  finest  wild  apples  that  they  had  ever 

5  tasted.  Those  not  eaten  at  once  were  taken  home 
and  kept  in  the  cellar  till  the  family  gathering  at 
Christmas,  when  all  present  pronounced  them 
finer  than  any  of  the  famous  varieties  grown  in 
the  little  orchard  near  the  house. 

10  "  Here  then  was  a  little  tree  growing  wild  with- 
out any  care,  yet  producing  handsome  apples  of 
fine  quality.  How  do  you  suppose  it  came  to  be 
growing  there  ?  " 

"  Somebody  planted  it,"  declared  Gordon. 

15  "  No,"  I  said,  "  it  was  not  planted,  but  grew 
there  from  the  seed,  and  was,  therefore,  what  is 
called  a  seedling." 

"  The  Brownies  must  have  planted  it,"  remarked 
Jean. 

20  "  Well,  maybe  they  did,"  I  said;  "but  I  think 
the  Brownies  in  this  case  were  the  men  who  helped 
to  chop  down  the  trees  in  the  woods.  Probably 
they  had  taken  with  them  some  snow  apples  to  eat 
when  they  felt  hungry.     They  threw  away  the 

26  cores,  and  from  one  of  the  seeds  this  little  tree 
may  have  grown." 


BOOK  FOUR  61 

"  What  makes  you  think  they  were  snow  apples  ?" 
inquired  Jean. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "if  you  will  fetch  a  few  snow 
apples  from  the  cellar,  to  compare  with  those  in 
the  dish,  you  may  find  the  reason  yourself."  5 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  they  were  mak- 
ing comparisons,  and  they  agreed  that  there  was 
not  much  difference  in  appearance,  except  that 
the  Mclntoshes  were,  on  the  whole,  a  little  larger 
and  redder  than  the  snows.  ^  lo 

"What  makes  those  black  spots  on  the  skin?" 
asked  Gordon;  "they  are  on  both  sides." 

"Those,"  I  replied,  "are  caused  by  a  fungous 
disease  with  which  the  snow  apple  and  its  relatives 
are  often  troubled.    Now  cut  an  apple  of  each  kind  i5 
and  compare  the  flesh." 

"  They  are  both  nearly  as  white  as  snow,  are  n't 
they  ?  "  said  Jean. 

"That  is  still  further  proof,"  I  said,  "that  they 
belong  to  the  same  family.  Now  taste  them."  20 
After  much  tasting  it  was  decided  that  they  were 
both  so  good  that  it  was  hard  to  say  which  was 
the  better;  but  when  the  children  were  asked  to 
shut  their  eyes  and  guess  the  name  of  each  by  the 
taste,  they  found  no  difficulty  in  telling  which  was  25 
the  Mcintosh,  because  it  had  a  "  spicy  flavor." 


62  THE  HILL  READERS 

"Now,"  I  said,  "  I  think  that  you  have  sufficient 
proof  that  these  two  apples  are  related.  In  fact, 
there  is  little  doubt  that  the  Mcintosh,  and  a 
number  of  other  varieties  I  might  mention,  are 

6  seedlings  from  the  snow,  or,  as  it  is  more  properly 
called,  the  Fameuse.  These  varieties,  however,  do  not 
take  their  names  from  their  parent.  The  Mcintosh, 
as  you  may  have  already  guessed,  received  its  name 
from  the  man  on  whose  farm  the  first  tree  of  that 

10  kind  was  found." 

"  But  how  does  it  happen  that  there  are  so  many 
trees  of  that  kind  now  ?  "  asked  Fred.  "  We  have 
them,  and  grandpa  has  them,  and  a  great  many 
people  have  them." 

16  "  That,"  I  said,  "  is  one  of  the  interesting  points 
in  the  story  of  nearly  all  cultivated  fruit  trees. 

"All  the  Mcintosh  trees  now  growing  in  all 
parts  of  the  country  have  descended  from  that  one 
little  tree  in  Dundas  County,  not  by  planting  seed 

20  from  it,  for  that  would  probably  have  produced 
other  varieties,  but  by  grafting  and  budding  other 
trees  with  cuttings  and  buds  taken  from  it. 

"One  of  the  most  remarkable  things  about 
nearly  all  our  cultivated  fruit  trees  is  that  trees 

25  grown  from  their  seed  show  endless  variations.  If, 
for  instance,  you  should  plant  one  hundred  Mcintosh 


BOOK  FOUR  63 

apple  seeds,  probably  no  two  of  the  trees  from  them 
would  bear  apples  just  alike.  It  is  even  likely 
that  none  of  them  would  bear  as  good  fruit  as  the 
Mcintosh,  although  it  is  possible  that  even  better 
fruit  might  be  produced.  Some  day  you  may  find  5 
this  an  interesting  thing  to  investigate." 

"  But  what  do  you  mean  by  budding  and  graft- 
ing?" inquired  Fred. 

"These,"  I  replied,  "are  methods  adopted  by 
nurserymen,  who  make  a  business  of  growing  trees,  lo 
whereby  they  can  grow  any  number  of  trees  that 
will  bear  the  same  kind  of  fruit  without  varying, 
as  would  naturally  happen  if  the  trees  were  grown 
from  seed.  These  methods  of  propagating  trees 
depend  upon  the  fact  that  every  perfect  bud  on  a  15 
tree  is  capable,  under  favorable  conditions,  of  pro- 
ducing another  branch,  or,  indeed,  a  whole  tree  of 
the  same  kind  as  that  on  which  it  grew. 

"  The  Mcintosh  in  our  garden  is  a  budded  tree, 
which  was  obtained  from  Mr.  Smith's  nursery,  20 
where  he  grows  thousands  of  other  trees  just  like 
it.  In  growing  these  trees  Mr.  Smith  had,  in  long 
rows  in  the  nursery,  thousands  of  little  seedling 
apple  trees  (that  is,  little  trees  grown  from  apple 
seeds),  which,  if  allowed  to  grow  naturally,  would,  25 
he  knew,  bear  a  great  variety  of  mostly  inferior 


64 


THE  HILL  KEADERS 


fruit ;  but  he  had  heard  of  the  unusual  excellence 
of  the  Mcintosh  apple,  and  intended  to  make  all 
these  seedling  trees  bear  Mcintosh  apples ;  so  he 
wrote  to  Mr.  Mcintosh  and  asked  him  to  send  him 
6  all  the  young  shoots  he  could  spare  from  his 
Mcintosh  tree. 

From  these  shoots,  which  were  obtained  in  July, 
Mr.  Smith's  men  proceeded  to  bud  the  seedling 


trees  in  the  nursery  rows.  The  bark  on  each  little 
10  tree  was  cut  open  near  the  ground  and  one  of  the 
Mcintosh  buds  was  put  in  and  bound  firmly  in 
place.  At  the  end  of  the  season  the  bud  showed 
by  its  plumpness  that  it  had  been  adopted  and 


BOOK  FOUR  65 

nourished  by  its  foster  parent,  and  to  all  appear- 
ances it  was  much  the  same  as  any  of  the  other 
buds,  except  for  the  scar  around  it,  showing  where 
it  had  been  inserted. 

"  Early  the  next  spring,  each  seedling  tree  was  5 
cut  off  just  above  the  Mcintosh  bud,  which  was 
thus  suddenly  given  the  responsibility  of  making 
a  new  top  for  the  tree,  and  that  is  just  what  each 
little  Mcintosh  bud  did.  In  three  years  each  had 
made  a  tree  big  enough  to  be  sold  for  transplant-  lo 
ing  ;  and  that  year  they  were  all  taken  up  and 
sent  to  purchasers  throughout  the  country. 

"  In  grandpa's  orchard  you  may  have  noticed 
that  the  tree  which  bears  the  Mcintosh  apples 
bears  also  a  few  yellow  apples."  is 

"Yes;  Talman  Sweets,"  said  Gordon. 

"  Well,  that  tree  once  bore  all  Talmans  ;  but  one 
spring  grandpa  cut  off  most  of  its  branches  and 
grafted  into  the  stubs  left  a  few  scions,  or  bits  of 
twigs,  from  a  Mcintosh  tree.  These  scions  united  20 
with  the  growing  part  of  the  Talman  tree  and 
produced  large  branches  which  bear  the  Mcintosh 
apples,  while  the  branches  which  were  not  grafted 
still  bear  Talman  Sweet  apples. 

"  By  grafting  into  a  large,  bearing  tree  in  this  25 
way  grandpa's  tree  was  bearing  Mcintosh  apples 


66  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

in  three  or  four  years;  whereas  our  tree,  being  a 
young  one,  was  nearly  twice  as  old  as  that  before 
it  had  apples  on  it. 

"  From  the  story  of  this  apple  you  have  learned 

5  how  new  varieties  of  fruits  sometimes  originate. 
Those  found  in  this  way  are  said  to  be  of  chance 
origin.  All,  however,  do  not  originate  by  chance. 
Some  are  the  result  of  careful  and  patient  work 
on  the  part  of  men  who  not  only  gather  and  plant 

10  the  seed  but  also  contrive  to  have  the  new  kind 
combine  the  good  qualities  of  the  other  varieties. 
Next  spring,  when  the  trees  are  in  bloom,  I  will 
show  you  how  this  may  be  done. 

"  If  you  would  like  to  try  what  you  can  do  at 

15  such  work,  you  may  begin  next  year  by  planting 
a  row  of  apple  seeds  in  the  garden ;  and  when  the 
httle  trees  are  big  enough,  I  '11  show  you  how  to 
bud  them,  or  how  they  may  be  made  to  bear  fruit 
in  two  or  three  years  by  grafting  them  into  a  bear- 

20  ing  tree.    How  many  of  you  would  like  to  try  it  ?  " 
"  I,"  "  I,"  "  I,"  they  all  shouted ;   so  we  began 
operations  at  once  by  eating  all  the  apples  in  the 
dish,  to  get  the  seeds  for  next  spring's  planting. 

espied:  saw.  —  propagating :  causing  to  spread.  —  foster  parent : 
adox)ted  parent. 


BOOK  FOUR 


67 


THE  FIELD  OF  THE  SLUGGARD 


The  Bi6le 

I  went  by  the  field  of  the  sluggard, 

And  by  the  vineyard  of  the  man  void  of  under- 
standing ; 
And,  lo,  it  was  all  grown  over  with  thorns, 
The  face  thereof  was  covered  with  nettles, 
And  the  stone  wall  thereof  was  broken  down. 

Then  I  beheld,  and  considered  well, 

I  saw,  and  received  instruction : 

"  Yet  a  little  sleep,  a  little  slumber, 

A  little  folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep  "  — 

So  shall  thy  poverty  come  as  a  robber. 

And  thy  want  as  an  armed  man. 


10 


68  THE  HILL  READERS 

THE  RABBI  AND  THE  DIADEM 

The  Talmud 
Note.     The  Talmud  was  a  sacred  book  of  the  Hebrews. 

Great  was  the  alarm  in  the  palace  of  Rome,  an 
alarm  which  soon  spread  throughout  the  entire 
city.    The   Empress   had  lost   her  costly  diadem 

6  and  it  could  not  be  found.  Her  servants  searched 
in  every  direction,  but  the  search  was  all  in  vain. 
Half  distracted,  the  Empress  redoubled  her  exer- 
tions to  regain  her  precious  possession,  but  without 
result.    As  a  last  resource  it  was  proclaimed  in 

10  the  public  streets :  "The  Empress  has  lost  a  price- 
less diadem.  Whoever  restores  it  within  thirty 
days  shall  receive  a  princely  reward.  But  he  who 
delays,  and  brings  it  after  thirty  days,  shall  lose 
his  head." 

15  In  those  times  all  nationalities  flocked  toward 
Rome ;  all  classes  and  creeds  could  be  met  in  its 
stately  halls  and  crowded  thoroughfares.  Among 
the  rest  was  a  rabbi,  a  learned  sage  from  the  East, 
who  loved  goodness  and  lived  a  righteous  life  in 

20  the  stir  and  turmoil  of  the  Western  world.  It 
chanced  one  night  as  he  was  strolling  up  and  down 
in  busy  meditation,  beneath  the  clear,  moonlit  sky, 


BOOK  FOUR  69 

he  saw  the  diadem  sparkling  at  his  feet.  He 
seized  it  quickly,  and  took  it  to  his  dwelling, 
where  he  guarded  it  carefully  until  the  thirty 
days  had  expired. 

He  then   proceeded  to    the  palace  and,  undis-   s 
mayed  at  the  sight  of  long  lines  of  soldiers  and 
officials,  asked  for  an  audience  with  the  Empress. 

"What  dost  thou  mean  by  this?"  she  inquired, 
when  he  had  told  her  his  story  and  had  given  her 
the  diadem.  "Why  didst  thou  delay  until  this  hour?  lo 
Dost  thou  know  the  penalty?   Thy  head  must  be 
forfeited." 

"  I  delayed  until  now,"  the  rabbi  answered 
calmly,  "  so  that  thou  mightest  know  that  I  return 
thy  diadem  not  for  the  sake  of  the  reward,  still  is 
less  out  of  fear  of  punishment,  but  solely  to  com- 
ply with  the  Divine  command  not  to  withhold 
from  another  the  property  which  belongs  to  him." 

"  Blessed  be  thy  God  !  "  the  Empress  answered, 
and  dismissed  the  rabbi  without  further  reproof;  20 
for  had'  he  not  done  right  for  right's  sake  ? 

From  the  translation  of  A.  S.  Isaacs 
rabbi :  a  Jewish  priest.  —  sage :  a  wise  man.  —  turmoil :  trouble. 


70  THE  HILL  READERS 

THE  MEADOW  BROOK 

Paul  Hamilton  Hayne 

Paul  Hamilton  Hayne  (1830-1886),  an  American  poet, 
was  born  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina.  His  family  was  one  of 
the  most  distinguished  of  the  state.  His  father,  a  lieutenant  in 
the  United  States  Navy,  died  when  the  poet  was  still  an  infant, 
5  and  the  child  became  the  ward  of  his  uncle,  Robert  Y.  Hayne, 
the  brilliant  orator. 

Hayne  was  graduated  with  distinction  from  Charleston  Col- 
lege. Like  many  others  he  studied  law  only  to  give  it  up  for  let- 
ters.    He  found  in  his  native  city   a   group   of  literary  men. 

10  Among  these  were  AVilliam  Gilmore  Simms,  the  novelist,  and 
Henry  Timrod,  the  poet,  who  became  Hayne 's  life-long  friend. 

The  young  po/et  began  his  career  by  contributions  to  periodi- 
cals. He  soon  became  a  favorite  contributor  of  the  Southern 
Literary  Messenger.    When  the  Charleston  group  of  book  lovers 

16  started  Russell's  Magazine,  Hayne  was  selected  to  edit  it. 

When  the  Civil  War  opened  Hayne,  although  a  delicate  man, 
volunteered  and  was  assigned  to  duty  on  Governor  Pickens's  staff. 
Ill  health,  however,  forced  him  to  resign,  and  he  again  betook 
himself  to  poetry. 

20  His  home  in  Charleston  was  burned  during  the  bombardment, 
his  ample  fortune  was  swept  away,  and,  at  the  close  of  the  war, 
he  found  himself  homeless  and  well-nigh  penniless.  He  retired  to 
the  sand  hills  and  built  a  plain  cottage  not  far  from  Augusta, 
Georgia.    In  this  simple  home,  on  a  desk  made  from 'a  carpen- 

26  ter's  workbench,  he  wrote  his  later  poems. 

Gurgle,  gurgle,  gurgle. 

Over  ledge  and  stone ; 
How  I  *m  going,  flowing, 

Westward,  all  alone ; 


BOOK  FOUR  71 

All  alone,  but  happy, 

Happy  and  hale  am  I, 
Clasped  by  the  emerald  meadows. 

Flushed  by  the  golden  sky. 

No  kindred  brook  is  calling,  5 

To  woo  these  tides  in  glee ; 
I  hear  no  neighboring  voices 

Of  inland  rill  or  sea ; 
But  the  sedges  thrill  above  me. 

And  where  I  blithely  pass,  10 

Coy  winds,  like  nymphs  in  ambush. 

Seem  whispering  through  the  grass. 

Tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle ; 

Hark  !  the  tiny  swell 
Of  wavelets  softly,  silverly  15 

Toned  like  a  fairy  bell. 
Whose  every  note,  dropped  sweetly 

In  mellowed  glamom-  round. 
Echo  hath  caught  and  harvested 

In  airy  sheaves  of  sound  !  20 

hale :  well,  healthy.  — blithely :  happily.  —  glamour :  magic  spell. 


72  THE  HILL  READERS 

THE  FARMER'S  LIFE 
John  Burroughs 

John  Burroughs  (1837-  ),  an  American  naturalist  and 
author,  was  born  in  Roxbury,  New  York.  He  has  filled  various 
government  positions,  —  clerk  in  the  Treasury  Department,  re- 
ceiver for  a  national  bank,  national  bank  examiner.  In  1874  he 
made  his  home  on  a  fruit  farm  at  Esopus,  New  York.  He  now 
divides  his  time  between  raising  fruit  and  writing  books. 

He  is  an  untiring  observer  of  out-of-door  life,  and  his  books, 
fresh  and  original  in  thought  and  sprightly  in  style,  have  had  a 
deserved  popularity. 


10 


It  is  a  common  complaint  that  the  farm  and 
farm  life  are  not  appreciated  by  our  people.  We 
long  for  the  more  elegant  pursuits,  or  the  ways 
and  fashions  of  the  town.  But  the  farmer  has  the 
most  sane  and  natural  occupation,  and  ought  to 

15  find  life  sweeter,  if  less  highly  seasoned,  than  any 
other.  He  alone,  strictly  speaking,  has  a  home. 
How  can  a  man  take  root  and  thrive  without  land  ? 
He  writes  his  history  upon  his  field.  How  many 
ties,  how  many  resources,  he  has,  —  his  friendships 

20  with  his  cattle,  his  team,  his  dogs,  his  trees,  the 
satisfaction  in  his  growing  crops,  in  his  improved 
fields;  his  intimacy  with  nature,  with  bird  and 
beast,  and  with  the  quickening  elemental  forces ;  his 
cooperation  with  the  cloud,  the  sun,  the  seasons, 


BOOK  FOUE  73 

heat,  wind,  rain,  frost.  Nothing  will  take  the 
various  distempers,  which  the  city  and  artificial 
life  breed,  out  of  a  man  like  farming,  like  direct 
and  loving  contact  with  the  soil.  It  draws  out  the 
poison.  It  humbles  him,  teaches  him  patience  and  5 
reverence,  and  restores  the  proper  tone  to  his 
system. 

Blessed  is  he  whose  youth  was  passed  upon  a 
farm.    Cling  to  the  farm,  make  much  of  it,  put 
yourself  into  it,  bestow  your  heart  and  yQur  brain  10 
upon  it,  so  that  it  shall  savor  of  you  and  radiate 
your  virtue  after  your  day's  work  is  done. 

"  Be  thou  diligent  to  know  the  state  of  thy 
flocks,  and  look  well  to  thy  herds. 

"  For  riches  are  not  for  ever ;    and  doth   the  15 
crown  endure  to  every  generation  ? 

"  The  hay  appeareth,  and  the  tender  grass 
showeth  itself,  and  herbs  of  the  mountains  are 
gathered. 

"  The    lambs    are    for    thy   clothing,    and   the  20 
goats  are  the  price  of  the  field. 

^^And  thou  shalt  have  goats'  milk  enough  for 
thy  food,  for  the  food  of  thy  household,  and  for 
the  maintenance  of  thy  maidens." 

sane :  sound,  healthy.  —  quickening  :  making  alive.  —  radiate : 
send  out,  give  forth. 


74  THE  HILL  READERS 

THE  HERO 

Henry  Jerome  Stock ard 

Henry  Jerome  Stockard  (1858-  ),  poet  and  teacher, 
was  born  in  Chatham  County,  North  Carolina,  but  was  reared  in 
Alamance  County.  After  completing  his  high-school  course  he 
passed  to  the  University  of  North  Carolina. 
6  Mr.  Stockard  now  holds  the  chair  of  English  in  Peace  Insti- 
tute, Raleigh,  North  Carolina.  He  has  contributed  poems  to 
many  American  periodicals,  and  his  single  volume,  Fugitive  Lines, 
has  had  a  good  circulation. 

To  be  a  hero  must  you  do  some  deed 
10      With  which   your  name  shall  ring  the  world 
around  ? 
With  blade  uplifted  must  you  dare  to  lead 

Where   armies   reel   on    slopes   with   lightning 
crowned  ? 

Or  must  you  set  for  polar  seas  your  sails, 

And  chart  the  Arctic's  silent  realms  and  gray? 
16  Or  drag  your  barge  through  virgin  streams  in  pales 
Of  undiscovered  lands  ?    I  tell  you,  Nay! 

Who  is  earth's  greatest  hero  ?    He  that  bears, 

Deep  buried  in  his  kingly  heart,  his  lot 

Of  suffering ;  and,  if  need  be,  he  that  dares 

20      Lay  down  his  life  for  right,  and  falters  not ! 

pales :  bounds  or  limits. 


BOOK  FOUR  75 

THE  HERDSMAN'S  SONG 

JOHANN    FrIEDRICH    VON    SCHILLER 

Schiller  (1759-1805)  was  a  German  poetical  genius.  He 
was  the  son  of  an  overseer  of  nurseries  on  the  estate  of  the  Duke 
of  Wtirttemberg,  and  was  educated  through  the  kindness  of  the 
duke.  After  being  graduated  as  a  military  surgeon,  he  left  his 
profession  to  give  his  life  to  poetry.  In  later  life  Schiller  and  5 
the  great  Goethe  were  warm  friends. 

Ye  meadows,  farewell ! 

Ye  sunniest  pastures,  '  ' 

The  herdsman  must  leave  you, 

The  summer  is  gone.  lo 

We  go  from  the  hills,  we  come  ere  long 
When  the  cuckoo  calls  and  the  sound  of  song ; 
When  the  earth  with  blossoms  again  is  gay. 
When  the  fountains  gush  in  the  lovely  May. 

Ye  meadows,  farewell !  i5 

Ye  sunniest  pastures. 

The  herdsman  must  leave  you, 

The  summer  is  gone. 


76  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

THE   BATTLE   IN   THE   DARK^ 

Geobge  Gary  Eggleston 

George  Gary  Eggleston  (1839-  )  was  born  in  Indiana. 
He  was  educated  at  Richmond  College,  Virginia,  and  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Virginia.  He  studied  and  practiced  law  in  Richmond. 
In  the  Civil  War  he  served  on  the  Southern  side.  At  the  close  of 
5  the  war  he  removed  to  Cairo,  Illinois,  and  resumed  the  practice 
of  law.  In  1870  he  made  his  home  in  New  York  and  became  an 
editor.  Mr.  Eggleston  has  written  many  entertaining  books  for 
young  people. 

When  the  British  succeeded  in  taking  Lieuten- 
10  ant  Jones's  little  gunboats  and  making  a  landing 
they  supposed  that  the  hardest  part  of  their  work 
was  done.    It  was  not  far  from  their  landing  place 
to  New  Orleans,  and  there  was  nothing  in  their 
way.    Their  army  numbered  nearly  twenty  thou- 
15  sand  men,  and  they  were  the  best  soldiers  that 
England  had.    Many  of  them  were  Wellington's 
veterans.    It  seemed  certain  that  such  an   army 
could   march   into   New  Orleans  with  very  little 
trouble  indeed,  and  everybody  on  both  sides  thought 
20  so,  —  that  is  to  say,  everybody  but  General  Jack- 
son, the  American  commander. 

On   the   23d  of   December,    1814,   the   British 
arrived  at  a  point  a  few  miles  below  the  city  and 

1  From  Strange  Stories  from  American  History.    Copyright,  1903. 
Harper  &  Brothers,  Publishers. 


BOOK  FOUR  77 

went  into  camp  about  noon.  As  soon  as  Jackson 
heard  of  their  arrival  he  said  to  the  people  around 
him,  "  Gentlemen,  the  British  are  below ;  we  must 
fight  them  to-night." 

He  immediately  ordered  his  troops  forward.    He   5 
had  made  a  soldier  of  everybody  who  could  carry 
a  gun,  and  his  little  army  was  a  curiously  mixed 
collection  of  men.    There  were  a  few  regulars  in 
uniform ;  there  were  some  Mississippi  troopers,  and 
Coffee's  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  himters  in  hunt-  lo 
ing  shirts  and  jean  trousers ;    there  were  volun- 
teers of  all  sorts  from  the  streets  of  New  Orleans, 
—  merchants,  lawyers,  laborers,  clerks,  and  clergy- 
men, —  armed  with  rifles  and  old  muskets ;  there 
were  some  criminals  whom  Jackson  had  released  i5 
from  prison  on  condition  that  they  would  fight; 
there  was  a  battalion  of  free  negroes,  and,  finally, 
there  were  about  twenty  Choctaw  Indians. 

With  this  mixed  crowd  Jackson  had  to  fight  the 
very  best  troops  in  the  British  army.  Only  about  20 
half  of  his  men  had  ever  heard  a  bullet  whistle, 
and  less  than  half  of  them  were  drilled  and  dis- 
ciphned ;  but  they  were  brave  men  who  believed 
in  their  general,  and  they  were  about  to  fight 
for  their  country  as  brave  men  should.  When  25 
all  were  counted  —  backwoodsmen,  regulars,  city 


78  THE  HILL   READERS 

volunteers,  negroes,  Indians,  and  all  —  the  whole 
army  numbered  only  2131  men !  But,  weak  as  this 
force  was,  Jackson  had  made  up  his  mind  to  fight 
with  it.    He  knew  that  the  British  were  too  strong 

5  for  him,  but  he  knew  too  that  every  day  would 
make  them  stronger. 

The  British  camp  was  nine  miles  below  the  <?ity, 
on  a  narrow  strip  of  land  between  the  river  and  a 
swamp.    Jackson   sent  a  gunboat,  the    Carolina, 

10  down  the  river,  with  orders  to  anchor  in  front  of 
the  camp  and  pour  a  fire  of  grapeshot  into  it. 
He  sent  Coffee  across  to  the  swamp  and  ordered 
him  to  creep  through  the  bushes,  and  thus  get 
upon  the  right  flank  of  the  British.    He  kept  the 

16  rest  of  his  army  under  his  own  command,  ready  to 

advance  from  the  front  upon  the  enemy's  position. 

But  no  attack  was  to  be  made  until  after  dark. 

The  army  was  kept  well  out  of   sight  and  the 

British    had    no   suspicion   that   any  attack   was 

20  thought  of.  They  did  not  regard  Jackson's  men 
as  soldiers  at  all,  and  the  most  they  expected  such 
a  mob  to  do  was  to  wait  somewhere  below  the  city 
until  the  British  soldiers  should  get  ready  to  drive 
them  away  with  a  few  volleys. 

26  So  the  British  lighted  their  camp  fires,  stacked 
their  arms  for  the  night,  and  cooked  their  suppers. 


80  THE  HILL  READERS 

They  meant  to  stay  where  they  were  for  a  day  or 
two  until  the  rest  of  their  force  could  come  up, 
and  then  they  expected  to  march  into  the  town 
and  make  themselves  at  home. 

5  Night  came  on,  and  it  was  exceedingly  dark. 
At  half  past  seven  o'clock  there  came  a  flash  and 
a  roar.  The  Carolina,  lyii^g  in  the  river  within  a 
few  hundred  yards  of  the  camp,  had  begun  to  pour 
her  broadsides  into  the  British  quarters.    Her  can- 

10  non  vomited  fire  and  sent  a  hailstorm  of  grape- 
shot  into  the  camp,  while  the  marines  on  board 
kept  up  a  steady  fire  of  small  arms. 

The  British  were  completely  surprised,  but  they 
were  not  to  be  scared  by  a  surprise.    They  quickly 

15  formed  a  line  on  the  bank  and,  bringing  up  some 
cannon,  gave  battle  to  the  saucy  gunboat. 

For  ten  minutes  this  fight  went  on  between  the 
Americans  on  the  river  and  the  British  on  shore ; 
then  Jackson  ordered  his  troops  to  advance.    His 

20  columns  rushed  forward  and  fell  upon  the  enemy, 
surprising  them  and  forcing  them  to  fight  on  two 
sides  at  once.  Coffee,  who  was  hidden  over  in  the 
s^amp,  no  sooner  heard  the  roar  of  the  Carolina's 
guns  than  he  gave  the  word  to  advance,  and,  rush- 

25  ing  but  of  the  bushes,  his  Yough  hunters  attacked 
still  another  side  of  the  enemy's  position. 


BOOK  FOUR  81 

Still  the  sturdy  British  held  their  ground  and 
fought  like  the  brave  men  and  good  soldiers  that 
they  were.  It  was  too  dark  for  anybody  to  see 
clearly  what  was  going  on.  The  lines  on  both 
sides  were  soon  broken  up  into  independent  groups  5 
of  soldiers,  who  could  not  see  in  what  direction 
they  were  marching.  Regiments  and  battalions 
wandered  about  at  their  own  discretion,  fighting 
whatever  bodies  of  the  enemy  they  met,  and  some- 
times getting  hopelessly  entangled  with  each  other,  lo 
Never  was  there  so  complete  a  jumble  on  "a  battle- 
field. Whenever  two  bodies  of  troops  met  they  had 
to  call  out  to  each  other  to  find  out  whether  they 
were  friends  or  foes;  then,  if  one  body  proved  to 
be  Americans  and  the  other  British,  they  delivered  15 
a  volley  and  rushed  upon  each  other  in  a  desperate 
struggle  for  mastery. 

Sometimes  a  regiment  would  win  success  in  one 
direction,  and  just  as  its  enemy  on  that  side  was 
driven  back  it  would  be  attacked  from  the  oppo-  20 
site  quarter.  Coffee's  men  were  armed  with  squir- 
rel rifles,  which,  of  course,  had  no  bayonets;  but 
the  men  had  long  hunting  knives,  and  with  no 
better  weapons  than  these  they  did  not  hesitate 
to  make  charge  after  charge  upon  the  lines  of  25 
bayonets. 


82  THE  HILL   READERS 

The  British  suffered  terribly  from  the  first,  but 
their  steadiness  was  never  lost  for  a  moment.  The 
mad  onset  of  the  Americans  broke  their  lines,  and  in 
the  darkness  it  was  impossible  to  form  them  again 
5  promptly ;  but  still  the  men  kept  up  the  fight,  while 
the  officers,  as  rapidly  as  they  could,  directed  their 
detached  columns  toward  protected  positions. 

Retreating  slowly  and  in  as  good  order  as  they 
could,  the   British  got  beyond  the  range  of  the 

10  Carolina  s  guns  by  nine  o'clock,  and,  finding  a 
position  where  a  bank  of  earth  served  for  a  breast- 
work, they  made  a  final  stand  there.  It  was  im- 
possible to  drive  them  from  such  a  position,  and  so, 
little  by  little,  the  Americans  withdrew,  and  at  ten 

15  o'clock  the  Battle  in  the  Dark  was  at  an  end. 

Now  let  us  see  what  Jackson  had  gained  or  lost 
by  this  hasty  attack.  The  British  were  still  in  a 
position  to  threaten  New  Orleans,  and  the  rest  of 
their  large  army  was   hurrying  forward  to  help 

20  them.  They  had  lost  a  great  many  more  men  than 
Jackson  had,  but  they  could  spare  men  better  than 
he  could.  Still  the  attack  was  equal  to  a  victory 
for  the  Americans.  It  is  almost  certain  that  if  Jack- 
son had  waited  another  day  before  fighting  he  would 

26  have  lost  New  Orleans  and  the  whole  Southwest 
would  have  been  overrun. 


BOOK  FOUR  .  83 

But  by  making  this  night  attack  he  showed  the 
British  that  he  could  and  would  fight ;  and  they^ 
finding  what  kind  of  a  defense  he  meant  to  make, 
made  up  their  minds  to  move  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously. They  waited  for  the  rest  of  their  force  to  5 
come  up,  and  when  they  made  their  grand  attack 
on  the  8th  of  January,  1815,  they  found  Jackson 
ready  for  them.  His  army  was  increased,  his  men 
were  full  of  confidence,  and,  best  of  all,  he  had  a 
line  of  strong  earthworks.  It  is  commonly  said  that  lo 
his  fortifications  were  made  of  cotton  bales,  but  that 
is  an  error.  When  he  first  began  to  fortify  he  used 
some  cotton  bales  and  some  sygar,  which,  it  was 
thought,  would  do  instead  of  sand ;  but  in  the  early 
skirmishes  it  was  found  that  the  sugar  would  not  i5 
stop  cannon  balls,  while  the  cotton  was  worse  be- 
cause it  took  fire  and  nearly  suffocated  the  men 
behind  it  with  smoke.  The  cotton  and  sugar  were 
at  once  thrown  aside  and  the  battle  of  New  Orleans 
was  fought  behind  earthworks.  In  that  battle  the  20 
British  were  so  badly  worsted  that  they  gave  up  all 
idea  of  taking  New  Orleans,  which,  a  month  before, 
they  had  believed  it  would  be  so  easy  to  capture. 

battalion:  a  battalion  at  that  time  was  usually  made  up  of 
two  or  more  companies.  —  grapeshot:  small  iron  balls  used  in 
smooth-bore  cannon marines  :  sea  soldiers. 


84  THE  HILL   READERS 

THE  CHILDREN 

Benjamin  Sledd 

Benjamin  Sledd  (1864-  ),  poet  and  teacher,  was  born 
in  Bedford  County,  Virginia.  After  being  graduated  at  Wash- 
ington and  Lee  University,  he  took  post-graduate  work  at  Johns 
Hopkins  University. 
6  Since  1888  he  has  been  professor  of  English  in  Wake  Forest 
College,  North  Carolina.  He  has  published  two  volumes  of  verse, 
From  Cliff  and  Scaur  and  Watchers  of  the  Hearth. 

No  more  of  work  !    Yet  ere  I  seek  my  bed, 
Noiseless  into  the  children's  room  I  go, 
10      With  its  fom*  little  couches  all  a-row, 
And  bend  a  moment  over  each  dear  head. 

Those  soft,  round  arms  upon  the  pillow  spread, 
Those   dreaming   lips   babbling   more  than  we 

know. 
One  tearful,  smothered  sigh  of  baby  woe  — 
16  Fond  words  of  chiding,  would  they  were  unsaid  ! 

And  while  on  each  moist  brow  a  kiss  I  lay 
With  tremulous  rapture  grown  almost  to  pain. 
Close  at  my  side  I  hear  a  whispered  name :  — 
Our  long-lost  babe,  who  with  the  dawning  came, 
20      And  in  the  midnight  went  from  us  again. 

And  with  bowed  head,  one  good-night  more  I  say. 


BOOK  FOUR  85 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  CABLE 

James  Thomas  Fields 

James  Thomas  Fields  (1817-1881),  publisher,  editor,  and 
author,  was  born  in  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire.  He  succeeded 
James  Russell  Lowell  as  editor  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly  in  1862. 

His  home  was  long  a  gathering  place  for  literary  men.    There 
Emerson,  Longfellow,  Agassiz,  Lowell,  Holmes,  and  others  en-    5 
gaged  in  wit  combats  that  almost  rivaled  those  of  Shakespeare, 
Ben  Jonson,  and  their  merry  friends  at  the  old  Mermaid  Tavern 
in  London. 

There  is  a  faith  so  expansive  and  a  hope  so  elastic 
that  a  man  having  them  will  keep  on  believing  lo 
and  hoping  till  all  danger  is  passed  and  victory  is 
sure.  When  I  talk  across  an  ocean  three  thousand 
miles,  with  my  friends  on  the  other  side  of  it,  and 
feel  that  I  may  know  any  hour  of  the  day  if  all 
goes  well  with  them,  I  think  with  gratitude  of  the  i5 
immense  energy  and  perseverance  of  that  one  man, 
Cyrus  W.  Field,  who  spent  so  many  years  of  his 
life  in  perfecting  communication,  second  only  in 
importance  to  the  discovery  of  this  country.  The 
story  of  his  patient  striving  during  all  that  stormy  20 
period  is  one  of  the  noblest  records  of  American 
enterprise,  and  only  his  own  family  know  the 
whole  of  it.  It  was  a  long,  hard  struggle.  Thir- 
teen years  of  anxious  watching  and  ceaseless  toil ! 


86  THE  HILL  KEADEES 

Think  what  that  enthusiast  accomplished  by  his 
untiring  energy.  He  made  fifty  voyages  across  the 
Atlantic,  and  when  everything  looked  darkest  for 
his  enterprise  his  courage  never  flagged  for  an 
6  instant.  He  must  have  suffered  privations  and 
dangers  manifold.  Think  of  him  in  those  gloomy 
periods  pacing  the  decks  of  ships  on  dark,  stormy 
nights,  in  mid-ocean,  or  wandering  in  the  desolate 
forests  of  Newfoundland  in  pelting  rains,  comforir 
10  less  and  forlorn.  I  saw  him  in  1858,  immediately 
after  the  first  cable  had  ceased  to  throb.  Public 
excitement  had  grown  wild  over  the  mysterious 
workings  of  those  flashing  wires,  and  when  they 
stopped  speaking  the  reaction  was  intense.  Stock- 
is  holders,  as  well  as  the  public  generally,  grew  exas- 
perated and  suspicious ;  unbelievers  sneered  at  the 
whole  project,  and  called  the  scheme  a  hoax  from 
the  beginning.  They  declared  that  never  a  mes- 
sage had  passed  through  the  unresponsive  wires, 
20  and  that  Cyrus  Field  was  a  liar.  The  odium  cast 
upon  him.  was  boundless.  He  was  the  butt  and  the 
byword  of  his  time. 

It  was  at  this  moment  I  saw  him,  and  I  well 

remember  in    what  a   cowardly   manner  I  acted 

25  and  how  courageous  he  appeared.     I  had  scarcely 

dared  to  face  the  man  who  had  encountered  such  an 


BOOK  FOUK 


87 


overwhelming  disappointment,  and  who  was  suffer- 
ing such  a  terrible  disgrace.  But  when  we  met,  and 
I  saw  how  he  rose  to  the  occasion,  and  did  not 
abate  one  jot  of  heart  or  hope,  I  felt  that  this  man 


was  indeed  master  of  the  situation,  and  would  yet 
silence  the  hosts  of  doubters  who  were  thrusting 
their  darts  into  his  sensitive  spirit.  Eight  years 
more  he  endured  the  odium  of  failure,  but  still 
kept  plowing  across  the  Atlantic,  flying  from  city 


88  THE  HILL  READERS 

to  city,  soliciting  capital,  holding  meetings,  and 
forcing  down  the  most  colossal  discouragement. 

At  last  day  dawned  again  and  another  cable 
was  paid  out,  this  time  from  the  deck  of  the  Great 
5  Eastern.  Twelve  hundred  miles  of  it  were  laid 
down,  and  the  ship  was  just  lifting  her  head  to  a 
stiff  breeze  then  springing  up,  when,  without  a 
moment's  warning,  the  cable  suddenly  snapped 
short  off  and  plunged  into  the  sea. 

10  Says  the  published  account  of  this  great  disaster : 
"  Mr.  Field  came  from  the  companion  way  into 
the  saloon,  and  observed  with  admirable  composure, 
though  his  lip  quivered  and  his  cheek  was  white, 
'  The  cable  has  parted,  and  has  gone  from  the  reel 

15  overboard.'"  Nine  days  and  nights  they  dragged 
the  bottom  of  the  sea  for  this  lost  treasure,  and 
though  they  grappled  it  three  times,  they  could 
not  bring  it  to  the  surface. 

In  that  most  eloquent  speech  made  by  Mr.  Field 

20  at  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  banquet  in  New  Yorky 
one  of  the  most  touching  recitals  on  record,  he 
said :  "  We  returned  to  England  defeated,  but  full 
of  resolution  to  begin  the  battle  anew."  And  this 
time  his  energy  was  greater  even  than  before.    In 

25  five  months  another  cable  was  shipped  on  board 
the  Chreat  Eastern,  and  this  time,  by  the  blessing  of 


BOOK  FOUR  89 

Heaven,  the  wires  were  stretched  unharmed  from 
continent  to  continent.  Then  came  that  never-to- 
be-forgotten  search,  in  four  ships,  for  the  lost  cable. 
In  the  bow  of  one  of  these  vessels  stood  Cyrus 
Field,  day  and  night,  in  storm  and  fog,  squall  and  5 
calm,  intently  watching  the  quiver  of  the  grapnel 
that  was  dragging  two  miles  down  on  the  bottom 
of  the  deep. 

At  length,  on  the  last  night  of  August,  a  little 
before  midnight,  the  spirit  of  this  brave  man  was  lo 
rewarded.    I  shall  here  quote  his  own  words,  as 
none  others  could  possibly  convey  so  well  the  thrill- 
ing interest  of  that  hour.    He  says:  "All  felt  as 
if  life  and  death  hung  on  that  issue.    It  was  only 
when  the  cable  was  brought  over  the  bow  and  on  i5 
to  the  deck  that  men  dared  to  breathe.    Even  then 
they  hardly  believed  their  eyes.    Some  crept  toward 
it  to  feel  it,  to  be  sure  it  was  there.    Then  we  car- 
ried it  along  to  the  electrician's  room,  to  see  if  our 
long-sought  treasure  was  alive  or  dead.    A  few  20 
minutes  of  suspense,  and  the  flash  told  of  the  light- 
ning current  again  set  free.    Then  the  feeling  long 
pent  up  burst  forth.    Some  turned  away  their  heads 
and  wept.    Others  broke  into  cheers,  and  the  cry 
ran  from  man  to  man,  and  was  heard  down  in  the  25 
engine  rooms,  deck  below  deck,  and  from  the  boats 


90  THE  HILL  READERS 

on  the  water,  and  the  other  ships,  while  rockets 
lighted  up  the  darkness  of  the  sea.  Then  with 
thankful  hearts  we  turned  our  faces  again  to  the 
west.  But  soon  the  wind  rose,  and  for  thirty-six 
5  hours  we  were  exposed  to  all  the  dangers  of  a 
storm  on  the  Atlantic.  Yet  in  the  very  height 
and  fury  of  the  gale,  as  I  sat  in  the  electrician's 
room,  a  flash  of  light  came  up  from  the  deep, 
which,  having  crossed  to  Ireland,  came  back  to 

10  me  in  mid-ocean,  telling  me  that  those  so  dear  to 
me,  whom  I  had  left  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson, 
were  well,  and  following  us  with  their  wishes  and 
their  prayers.  This  was  like  a  whisper  of  God 
from  the  sea,  bidding  me  keep  heart  and  hope." 

15  And  now,  after  all  these  thirteen  years  of  almost 
superhuman  struggle,  and  that  one  moment  of 
almost  superhuman  victory,  I  think  that  it  is  safe 
to  include  Cyrus  W.  Field  among  the  masters  of 
the  situation. 

expansive:  given  to  spreading. — enthusiast:  one  devoted  to 
an  idea. — reaction:    action   in   a  contrary  way. — exasperated: 

provoked.  —  odium:    hatred paid  out:    allowed  to  run  out. — 

grapnel :  an  anchor  with  several  claws. 


BOOK  FOUR  91 

THE  VILLAGE  BLACKSMITH 
Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  (1807-1882)  is  perhaps 
the  poet  of  America  with  whom  our  young  people  are  most 
familiar.    He  is  often  called  the  Children's  Poet. 

Longfellow  was  born  in  Portland,  Maine,  and  was  graduated 
from  Bowdoin  College.  Immediately  after  his  graduation,  he  5 
was  offered  the  chair  of  modern  languages  in  his  alma  mater. 
Accepting  the  offer,  he  went  abroad  for  two  years  to  fit  himself 
for  the  duties  he  was  to  undertake.  He  studied  in  France,  Spain, 
Italy,  and  Germany.  Returning  to  America  in  1829,  he  entered 
upon  his  duties  at  Bowdoin.  Although  he  was  a  studious  and  10 
hard-working  professor,  he  found  time  for  literary  work,  contri- 
buting to  the  North  American  Review  and  other  periodicals.  This 
began  his  poetic  career. 

In  1835  he  was  elected  to  the  chair  of  modern  languages  in 
Harvard  University,  but  before  taking  up  his  new  work  he  again  15 
went  to  Europe  to  study  German  and  the  Scandinavian  languages. 
In  1836  he  began  his  professorial  duties  at  Harvard  and  con- 
tinued there  until  1854.  He  then  resigned  and  gave  all  his  time 
to  literary  pursuits. 

Longfellow's  life  was  singularly  pure  and  gentle.  At  his  home  20 
in  the  old  Craigie  House,  once  used  as  headquarters  for  General 
Washington,  all  comers  were  sure  of  a  courteous  and  friendly 
welcome.  Among  his  friends  were  Emerson,  Agassiz,  Lowell, 
Holmes,  Prescott,  Hawthorne,  Ticknor,  Sparks,  and  many  others 
prominent  in  their  day.  25 

As  a  child  he  was  gentle,  straightforward,  truthful,  and 
beautiful  of  soul ;  when  he  became  a  man  these  same  qualities 
were  the  groundwork  of  his  character.  <'  The  key  to  his  charac- 
ter," writes  his  brother,  "was  sympathy.  This  made  him  the 
gentle  and  courteous  receiver  of  every  visitor,  however  obscure,  30 


92  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

however  tedious  ;  the  ready  responder  to  every  appeal  to  his  pity 
or  his  purse.  .  .  .  This  gave  to  his  poetry  the  human  element 
which  made  in  thousands  of  hearts  in  many  lands  a  shrine  of 
reverence  and  affection  for  his  name."  Among  his  longer  poems 
5  are  Hiawatha,  Evangeline,  Tales  of  a  Wayside  Inn,  and  The  Court- 
ship of  Miles  Standish. 


Under  a  spreading  chestnut-tree 

The  village  smithy  stands ; 
The  smith,  a  mighty  man  is  he, 
10  With  large  and  sinewy  hands; 

And  the  muscles  of  his  brawny  arms 

Are  strong  as  iron  bands. 

His  hair  is  crisp,  and  black,  and  long, 
His  face  is  like  the  tan ; 
15  His  brow  is  wet  with  honest  sweat, 

He  earns  whate'er  he  can. 
And  looks  the  whole  world  in  the  face, 
For  he  owes  not  any  man. 

Week  in,  week  out,  from  morn  till  night, 
20  You  can  hear  his  bellows  blow  ; 

You  can  hear  him  swing  his  heavy  sledge, 

With  measured  beat  and  slow. 
Like  a  sexton  ringing  the  village  bell, 

When  the  evening  sun  is  low. 


BOOK  FOUR 


93 


And  children  coming  home  from  school 

Look  in  at  the  open  door ; 
They  love  to  see  the  flaming  forge, 

And  hear  the  bellows  roar, 
And  catch  the  burning  sparks  that  fly 

Like  chaff  from  a  threshing-floor. 


94  THE  HILL  READERS 

He  goes  on  Sunday  to  the  church, 

And  sits  among  his  boys ; 
He  hears  the  parson  pray  and  preach, 
He  hears  his  daughter's  voice, 
6  Singing  in  the  village  choir. 

And  it  makes  his  heart  rejoice. 

It  sounds  to  him  like  her  mother's  voice. 

Singing  in  Paradise ! 
He  needs  must  think  of  her  once  more, 
10  How  in  the  grave  she  lies ; 

And  with  his  hard,  rough  hand  he  wipes 
•   A  tear  out  of  his  eyes. 

Toiling,  —  rejoicing,  —  sorrowing. 
Onward  through  life  he  goes ; 
15  Each  morning  sees  some  task  begin. 

Each  evening  sees  it  close ; 

Something  attempted,  something  done. 
Has  earned  a  night's  repose. 

Thanks,  thanks  to  thee,  my  worthy  friend, 
20  For  the  lesson  thou  hast  taught ! 

Thus  at  the  flaming  forge  of  life 

Our  fortunes  must  be  wrought ; 
Thus  on  its  sounding  anvil  shaped 

Each  burning  deed  and  thought. 


BOOK  FOUR  95 

THREE  FAMOUS  LEGENDS 
HoKACE  Elisha  Scudder 

Horace  Elisha  Scudder  (1838-1902),  who  has  retold  these 
famous  legends,  was  born  in  Boston  and  educated  at  Williams  Col- 
lege. He  taught  school  for  some  years  in  New  York  City.  On  his 
father's  death  he  returned  to  Boston  and  became  a  writer.  In  1867 
he  was  editor  of  the  Riverside  Magazine  for  Young  People.  In  1890  he  5 
followed  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich  as  editor  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly. 

Scudder 's  Seven  Little  People  and  Their-  Friends,  Dream  Children, 
Stories  from  My  Attic,  The  Children's  Book,  and  The  Bodley  Books 
all  appeal  to  children. 

I.   St.  George  and  the  Dragon 

In  the  country  of  Libya  in  Asia  Minor  there  was  a  lo 
town  called  Silene,  and  near  the  town  was  a  pond  that 
was  the  roving  place  of  a  monster  dragon.  Many 
times  had  great  armies  been  sent  to  slay  him,  but 
never  had  they  been  able  to  overcome  him.  Instead, 
he  had  driven  them  back  to  the  walls  of  the  city.     15 

Whenever  this  dragon  drew  near  the  city  walls 
his  breath  was  so  full  of  poison  that  it  caused  the 
death  of  all  who  were  within  reach  of  it ;  and  so, 
to  save  the  city,  it  was  the  custom  to  throw  each 
day  two  sheep  to  feed  the  dragon  and  satisfy  his  20 
hunger.  So  it  went  on  until  not  a  sheep  was  left, 
and  not  one  could  be  found  in  the  neighborhood. 


96  THE  HILL  READERS 

Then  the  people  took  counsel  and  drew  lots,  and 
each  day  a  man  or  a  woman  and  one  of  their  cattle 
were  given  to  the  dragon,  so  that  he  might  not  de- 
stroy the  city.    Rich  or  poor,  high  or  low,  some  one 

5  must  each  day  be  sacrificed  to  the  dreadful  dragon. 

Now  it  came  to  pass  one  day  that  the  princess 

herself  was  drawn  by  lot.    The  king  was  filled  with 

horror.    He  offered  in  exchange  his  gold,  his  silver, 

and  half  his  realm  if  she  might  but  be  spared.    All 

10  he  could  obtain  was  a  respite  of  eight  days  in  which 
to  mourn  the  fate  of  the  girl. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  the  people  came  to  the 
palace  and  said :  "  Why  do  you  spare  your  daughter 
and  kill  your  subjects  ?    Every  day  we  are  slain  by 

15  the  breath  of  the  monster."  So  the  king  knew 
he  must  part  with  his  daughter.  He  dressed  her  in 
her  richest  apparel,  and  kissed  her,  and  said  :  "Ah, 
my  dearest  daughter !  I  had  thought  to  die  and 
leave  you  happy.    I  hoped  to  have  invited  princes 

20  to   your  wedding,  and   to   have    had   music   and 

.  dancing.  I  hoped  to  see  your  children,  and  now  I 
must  send  you  to  the  dragon." 

The  princess  wept  and  clung  to  her  father  and 
begged   him   to   bless    her.     So   he   did,  weeping 

26  bitterly,  and  she  left  him  and  went,  like  those  be- 
fore her,  to  the  lake  where  the  dragon  dwelt. 


BOOK  FOUR 


97 


Now  these  people  of  Libya  were  heathen ;  but  in 
Cappadocia,  not  far  away,  was  a  Christian  named 
George,  and  this  George  was  a  young  man  of  noble 
bearing.  He  heard  in  a  vision  that  he  was  to  go  to 
Libya,  and  so  he  rode  his  horse  toward  that  city, 
and  he  was  hard  by  the  lake  when  he   saw  the 


98  THE  HILL  READERS 

princess  standing  alone,  weeping  bitterly^  He  asked 
her  why  she  wept  and  she  only  said  :  "  Good  youth, 
mount  your  horse  again  and  flee,  lest  you  perish 
with  me." 
6  But  George  said  to  her  :  "  Do  not  fear.  Tell  me 
what  you  await  and  why  the  vast  crowd  yonder  are 
watching  you." 

Again  she  begged  him  to  flee. 

^'You  have  a  kind  and  noble  heart,  sir,  I  per- 
10  ceive,"  said  she ;  "  yet  flee,  and  at  once." 

"Not  so,"  said  George;  "I  will  first  hear  your 
tale." 

Then  she  told  him  all. 

"  Be  of  good  courage,"  said  he.    "  It  was  for  this 
15  I  was  sent." 

"  Do  not,  brave  knight,  seek  to  die  with  me.  It 
is  enough  that  I  should  perish.  You  can  neither 
save  me  nor  yourself  from  this  terrible  dragon." 
At  that  moment  the  dragon  rose  with  a  great  bel- 
20  lowing  from  the  lake.  "  Fly!  fly!  "  said  the  trem- 
bling princess.     ''  Fly,  sir  knight !  " 

But  George,  nothing  daunted,  made  the  sign  of 

the  cross  and  went  forward  boldly  to  meet  the 

dragon,  commending  himself  to  God.    He  raised 

25  his  spear  and  flung  it  with  all  his  force  at  the  neck 

of  the  monster.    So  surely  did  the  spear  fly  that  it 


BOOK  FOUR  99 

pierced  the  neck  and  pinned  the  dragon  to  the 
ground. 

Then  he  bade  the  princess  take  her  girdle  and 
pass  it  round  the  spear,  and  fear  nothing.  She  did 
so,  and  the  dragon  rose  and  followed  her  like  a  5 
docile  hound.  George  led  his  horse  and  walked 
beside  her,  and  thus  they  entered  the  city.  The 
people  began  to  flee  when  they  saw  the  dread 
beast,  but  George  stayed  them. 

"Fear  not,"  said  he.  "This  monster  can  no  lo 
longer  harm  you.  The  Lord  sent  me  to  deliver 
you."  And  so  the  multitude  followed,  and  they 
came  before  the  palace  where  the  king  sat  sor- 
rowing. And  when  the  king  heard  the  mighty 
rejoicing  he  came  forth  and  saw  his  beloved  15 
daughter  safe,  with  the  dragon  at  her  heels. 

Then  George  took  his  sword  and  smote  off  the 
dragon's  head,  and  all  the  people  hailed  him  as 
their  deliverer.  But  George  bade  them  give  glory  to 
the  Lord ;  and  he  remained  and  taught  them  the  20 
new  faith,  so  that  the  king  and  the  princess  and  all 
the  people  were  baptized.  And  when  George  died 
he  was  called  St.  George,  and  it  fell  out  finally  that 
he  became  the  patron  saint  of  merry  England. 

respite  :  delay.  —  apparel :  dress.  —  docile  :  easily  managed.  — 
hailed :  welcomed. 


100  THE  HILL  READERS 

II.   The  Bell  of  Justice 

A  Roman  emperor  had  tlie  ill  fortune  to  lose 
his  sight.  He  wished  that  his  people  might  not 
be  the  worse  for  this  loss;  so  he  hung  a  bell  in 
his  palace,  and  a  law  was  made  that  any  one  who 

6  had  a  wrong  to  be  righted  must  pull  the  rope  with 
his  own  hands  and  thus  ring  the  bell.  When  the 
bell  rung  a  judge  went  down  to  hear  the  com- 
plaint and  righted  the  wrong. 

It  chanced  that  a  serpent  had  its  home  under 

10  the  end  of  the  bell  rope.  Here  it  brought  forth  its 
young,  and  one  day  when  the  little  serpents  could 
leave  the  place  it  led  them  out  for  fresh  air. 
While  they  were  gone  a  toad  came  and  took  a 
fancy  to  the  place.    Nor  would  he  go  away  when 

16  the  serpent  came  back. 

The  serpent  could  not  drive  the  toad  out,  so  it 
coiled  its  tail  about  the  bell  rope  and  rang  the 
bell  of  justice.  Down  came  the  judge,  but  saw 
nobody  and  went  back.    Again  the  serpent  rang 

20  the  bell  in  the  same  way. 

This  time  the  judge  looked  about  with  the  greatr 
est  care  and  at  last  espied  the  serpent  and  the  toad. 
He  went  back  to  the  emperor  and  told  him  what 
he  had  seen. 


BOOK  FOUR     '  ,^  101^ 

"  It  is  very  clear,"  said  the  emperor,  ^'  that  the 
toad  is  in  the  wrong.  Go  down,  drive  out  the  toad, 
kill  it,  and  let  the  serpent  have  its  place  again." 

All  this  was  done.    Now,  not  many  days  after, 
as  the  emperor  lay  in  his  bed,  the  serpent  came   5 
into  the  room,  and  toward  the  emperor's  bed.    The 
servants  were  about  to  drive  the  serpent  away, 
but  the  emperor  forbade  them. 

"It  will  do  me  no  harm,"  said  he.  "I  have 
been  just  to  it.    Let  us  see  what  it  will  do/'  lo 

At  that  the  serpent  glided  up  the  bed  and  laid 
a  precious  stone,  which  it  carried  in  its  mouth, 
upon  the  emperor's  eyes.  Then  it  slipped  out  of 
the  room  and  no  one  saw  it  again.  But  no  sooner 
had  the  stone  lain  on  the  eyes  of  the  emperor  than  is 
his  sight  was  restored  and  he  could  see  as  well  as 
other  men. 

III.   The  Flying  Dutchmai^t 

Once  upon  a  time  a  Dutch  ship  set  sail  from 
the  East  Indies  to  return  to  Holland.  The  Dutch 
had  rich  lands  in  the  East  Indies,  and  many  a  20 
poor  lad  went  out  from  Holland  before  the  mast 
and  landed  at  Java,  it  may  be,  and  there  settled 
himself  and  grew  rich. 


1012  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

Such  a  one  was  a  certain  Diedrich,  who  had  no 
father  or  mother  living,  and  was  left  to  shift  for 
himself.  When  he  came  to  Java  he  was  bound 
out  to  a  rich  planter ;  and  he  worked  so  hard  and 

5  so  faithfully  that  it  was  not  long  before  he  was 
free  and  his  own  master.  Little  by  little  he  saved 
his  money,  and  as  he  was  very  careful  it  was  not 
many  years  before  he  was  very  rich  indeed. 

Now  all  these  years  Diedrich  had  never  forgotten 

10  what  a  hard  time  he  had  had  when  he  was  a  boy; 
and  at  last,  when  he  was  a  man  grown  and  had 
his  fortune,  he  resolved  to  carry  out  a  plan  which 
he  had  made.  He  sold  his  lands  and  houses  which 
he  owned  in  Java,  and  all  his  goods,  and  took  the 

15  money  he  received  in  bags  aboard  a  ship  which 
was  to  return  to  Holland. 

He  was  the  only  passenger  on  board,  but  he  was 
a  friendly  man  and  soon  was  on  good  terms  with 
the  captain  and  all  the  crew.    One  day,  as  the  ship 

20  drew  near  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  Diedrich  was 
sitting  by  the  captain,  and  they  each  fell  to  talking 
about  their  early  life. 

"And  what,"  said  Diedrich  to  the  captain,  "  do 
you  mean  to  do  when  you  make  a  few  more  voy- 

25  ages  and  have  saved  up  money  enough  not  to 
need  to  go  to  sea  any  more?" 


BOOK  FOUR  103 

"  I  know  well,"  said  the  captain,  as  he  pulled 
away  at  his  pipe.  "  There  is  a  httle  house  I  know 
by  a  canal  just  outside  of  Amsterdam.  I  mean  to 
buy  that  house;  and  I  will  have  a  summerhouse 
in  the  garden,  and  there  I  will  sit  all  day  long  5 
smoking  my  pipe,  while  my  wife  sits  by  my  side 
and  knits,  and  the  children  play  in  the  garden." 

"  Then  you  have  children  ?  " 

"  That  I  have,"  said  the  captain,  and  he  went 
on  to  name  them,  and  to  tell  how  old  each  one  lo 
was  and  how  bright  they  were.    It  was  good  to 
hear  him,  for  he  was  a  simple  man,  and  cared  for 
nothing  so  much  as  his  wife  and  little  ones. 

^^And  what,"  at  last  the  captain  said  to  Died- 
rich,  ■'  shall  you  do  ?  "  is 

'^Ah,  I  have  no  wife  or  children,  and  there  is 
no  one  in  all  Holland  who  will  be  glad  to  see  me 
come  home."  Then  he  told  of  what  a  hard  time 
he  had  when  he  was  a  youngster,  and  at  last,  as 
the  darkness  grew  deeper,  and  he  sat  there  alone  20 
with  the  captain,  he  suddenly  told  him  his  plan. 

■'  I  have  made  a  great  deal  of  money,"  said  he, 
"which  you  know  I  am  carrying  home  with  me. 
I  will  tell  you  what  I  am  going  to  do  with  it. 
There  are  a  great  many  poor  children  in  Amster-  25 
dam  who  have  no  home.    I  am  going  to  build  a 


104  THE  HILL   READERS 

great  house  and  live  in  it,  and  I  am  going  to  have 
the  biggest  family  of  any  one  in  Amsterdam.  1 
shall  take  the  poorest  and  most  miserable  chil- 
dren in  the  city,  and  they  shall  be  my  sons  and 

5  daughters." 

^'And  you  shall  bring  them  out  to  my  house," 
said  the  captain,  "  and  your  children  and  mine  shall 
play  together."  So  they  talked  and  talked,  until 
at  last  it  was  very  late,  and  they  went  to  their 

10  cabins  for  the  night. 

Now  while  they  were  talking  the  man  at  the 
wheel  listened;  and  as  he  heard  of  the  gold  that 
Diedrich  was  carrying  home,  his  evil  heart  began 
to  covet  it.    As  he  steered  the  ship,  and  after  his 

15  turn  was  over,  he  thought  and  thought  how  he 
could  get  that  gold.  He  knew  it  would  be  impos- 
sible for  him  alone  to  seize  it,  and  so  he  whispered 
about  it  to  one  and  another  of  the  sailors. 

The  crew  had  been  got  together  hastily.    There 

20  was  not  one  Dutchman  among  them,  and  there 
was  not  one  of  the  crew  who  had  not  committed 
some  crime.  They  were  wicked  men,  and  when 
the  sailor  told  them  of  the  gold  that  was  on  board 
they  were  ready  for  anything. 

25  The  ship  drew  nearer  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
and  the  captain  walked  the  deck  with  Diedrich, 


BOOK  FOUR  105 

and  they  both  talked  of  the  Holland  to  which  they 
were  going,  when  suddenly  they  were  seized  from 
behind  and  tightly  bound.  At  the  same  instant 
the  officers  of  the  ship,  the  mate  and  the  second 
mate,  were  seized,  and  now  the  ship  was  in  the  5 
hands  of  the  mutinous  crew. 

These  wicked  men  made  short  work.  They 
threw  the  captain  and  Diedrich  and  the  two 
mates,  each  bound  hand  and  foot,  into  the  sea. 
"  Dead  men  tell  no  tales,"  said  the  man  at  the  lo 
wheel.  Then  they  sailed  for  the  nearest  port.  But 
as  they  sailed  a  horrible  plague  broke  out  on  board. 
It  was  a  plague  which  made  the  men  crave  water 
for  their  burning  throats,  and  as  they  fought  to 
get  at  the  water  casks  they  spilled  all  the  water  15 
they  had. 

There  they  were,  in  the  midst  of  the  salt  sea, 
which  only  to  look  at  made  them  wild  with  thirst. 
Though  they  feared  what  might  befall  them  if 
they  made  for  the  land,  they  could  not  stand  the  20 
raging  thirst  and  they  steered  for  the  nearest  port. 

But  when  they  came  into  the  port  the  people 
saw  that  they  had  the  plague  and  they  refused  to 
let  them  land. 

"  We  have  great  store  of  gold,"  the  crew  cried  25 
with  their  parched  mouths.    "  Only  give  us  water ! " 


106  THE  HILL  READERS 

But  the  people  drove  them  away.  It  was  the  same 
when  they  went  to  the  next  port,  and  the  next. 
They  turned  back,  away  from  their  homeward 
voyage,  to  the  ports  of  the  East. 

5  Then  a  great  storm  arose  and  they  were  driven 
far  out  to  sea,  and  when  the  gale  died  down  they 
steered  again  for  the  land.  And  when  they  drew 
near  once  more  another  gale  sprang  up,  and  they 
were  driven  hither  and  thither;  and  once  more 

10  they  were  swept  far  away  from  the  shore. 

That  was  years  and  years  ago.  But  when  ships 
make  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  are  rounding 
it,  through  the  fog  and  mist  and  darkness  of  the 
night  they  see  a  ghostly  ship  sailing,  saihng,  never 

15  reaching  land,  always  beating  up  against  the  wind. 

.  Its  sails  are  torn,  the  masts  are  bleached,  and  there 

are  pale  figures  moving  about  on  deck.    Then  the 

sailors  whisper  to  each  other,  "  Look !  there  is  the 

Flying  Dutchman  !  " 

From  The  Book  of  Legends.  Copyright,  1899.  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co.,  Publishers. 


BOOK  FOUR 


107 


THE  BOW  OF  EURYTUS' 

James  Baldwin 

James  Baldwin  (1841-  ),  an  American  author,  was  born 
in  Hamilton  County,  Indiana.  He  is  largely  self-educated.  He 
taught  school  in  his  own  county  and  became  later  superintendent 
of  graded  schools  in  Huntington  and  other  cities.  Attracted  to 
New  York,  he  was  selected  as  one  of  the  assistant  editors  of 
Harper's  Magazine. 

He  has  written  many  books  for  young  people,  among  which 
are  The  Story  of  Siegfried,  The  Story  of  Roland,  The  Story  of  the 
Golden  Age,  Old  Greek  Stories,  Old  Stories  from  the  East,  etc. 


One    evening   there    came   to   Pherae    a   lordly  lo 
stranger,  bringing  with  him  a  train  of  well-armed 
men  and  bearing  a  handsome  present  for  Orsil- 
ochus.    He  was  very  tall  and  handsome ;   he  stood 
erect  as  a  mountain  pine  and  his  eyes  flashed  keen 


1  From  The  Story  of  the  Golden  Age.    Copyright,  1888.    Charles 
Scribner's  Sons,  Publishers. 


108  THE  HILL  READEKS 

and  sharp  as  those  of  an  eagle ;  but  his  long  white 
hair  and  frosted  beard  betokened  a  man  of  many 
years,  and  his  furrowed  brow  showed  plainly  that 
he  had  not  lived  free  from  care. 
6  "  I  am  Iphitus  of  (Echalia,"  he  said  ;  "  and  I  am 
journeying  to  Lacedaemon  where  Tyndareus  rules." 
When  Odysseus  heard  the  name  of  Iphitus  he 
remembered  it  as  that  of  a  dear  friend  of  whom 
his  father  had  often  spoken ;  and  he  asked :  "Are 

10  you  that  Iphitus  who  sailed  with  Jason  to  golden 
Colchis  ?  And  do  you  remember  among  your  com- 
rades one  Laertes  of  Ithaca  ?  " 

"There  is  but  one  Iphitus,"  was  the  answer, 
"  and  I  am   he.    Never   can  I  forget  the  noble- 

15  hearted  Laertes  of  Ithaca;  for  on  board  the  Argo 
he  was  my  messmate,  my  bedfellow,  my  friend,  my 
sworn  brother.  There  is  no  man  whom  I  love  more 
dearly.  Would  that  I  could  see  him,  or  even  know 
that  he  still  lives." 

20  When  he  learned  that  Odysseus  was  the  son  of 
his  old-time  friend  he  was  overjoyed ;  and  he  took 
him  by  the  hand  and  wept  for  very  gladness. 

One  day,  as  they  were  walking  alone  outside  of 
the  city  walls,  Iphitus  said,  "  Do  you  see  this  noble 

26  bow  which  I  carry,  and  which  I  always  keep  within 
easy  reach?" 


BOOK  FOUR,  109 

^^It  would  be  hard  not  to  see  it,"  answered 
Odysseus,  smiling ;  "  for  where  you  are  there  also 
is  the  bow.  I  have  often  wondered  why  you  guard 
it  with  so  great  care." 

"  It  is  the  bow  of  my  father  Eurytus,"  answered  5 
the  hero ;  "  and,  next  to  Apollo's  silver  weapon,  it 
is  the  most  wonderful  ever  made.  Much  grief  has 
it  brought  upon  our  house;  and  yet  it  was  not 
the  bow,  but  my  father's  overweening  pride,  that 
wrought  the  mischief  and  caused  me  to  g^)- sorrow-  lo 
ing  through  life.  Shall  I  finish  my  story  by  telling 
you  how  it  all  ended  ?  " 

"  Tell  me  all,"  answered  Odysseus. 

"  My  father  Eurytus,  as  I  have  said,  was  the 
king  of  the  archers;  for  no  man  could  draw  an  15 
arrow  with  so  unerring  aim  as  he,  and  no  man 
could  send  it  straight  to  the  mark  with  a  more 
deadly  force.  Every  thought  of  his  waking  hours 
was  upon  his  bow,  and  he  aspired  to  excel  even 
the  archery  of  Artemis  and  Apollo.  At  length  he  20 
sent  the  following  challenge  into  every  city  of 
Hellas : 

" '  Whosoever  will  excel  Eurytus  in  shooting  ivith 
the  how  and  arrows,  let  him  come  to  (Echalia  and 
try  his  skill.    The  prize  to  he  given  to  him  ivho  25 
succeeds  is  lole,  the  fair  daughter  of  Eurytus' 


110  THE  HILL  READERS 

"  Then  there  came  to  the  contest  great  num- 
bers of  young  men,  the  pride  of  Hellas.  But  when 
they  saw  this  wonderful  bow  of  Eurytus,  and  tried 
its  strength,  their  hearts  sank  within  them;  and 
6  when  they  aimed  their  shafts  at  the  target  they 
shot  far  wide  of  the  mark,  and  my  father  sent 
them  home  ashamed  and  without  the  prize. 

" '  My  dearest  lole,'  he  would  often  say,  '  I  am 
not  afraid  of  losing  you,  for  there  lives  no  man 
10  who  knows  the  bow  as  well  as  I.* 

"But  by  and  by  great  Heracles  heard  of  my 
father's  boast,  and  of  the  prize  which  he  had 
offered. 

"^I  will  go  down  to  CEchalia,'  said  he,  ^and  I 
15  will  win  the  fair  lole  for  my  bride.' 

"And  when  he  came  my  father  remembered 
how  he  had  taught  him  archery  in  his  youth ;  and 
he  felt  that  in  his  old  pupil  he  had  at  last  found  a 
peer.  Yet  he  would  not  cease  his  boasting.  'If 
20  the  silver-bowed  Apollo  should  come  to  try  his 
skill,  I  would  not  fear  to  contend  even  with  him.' 

"  Then  the  target  was  set  up,  so  far  away  that 
it  seemed  as  if  one  might  as  well  shoot  at  the  sun. 

"'Now,  my  good  bow,'  said  my  father,  'thou 
25  hast  never  failed  me;  do  thou  serve  me  better 
to-day  than  ever  before  !  * 


Ill 


112  THE  HILL   READERS 

"He  drew  the  strong  cord  back,  bending  the 
bow  to  its  utmost  tension;  and  then  the  swift 
arrow  leaped  from  its  place  and  sped  like  a  beam 
of  light  straight  towards,  the  mark.    But  before  it 

5  reached  its  goal  the  strength  which  my  father's 
arm  had  imparted  to  it  began  to  fail ;  it  wavered 
in  the  air,  its  point  turned  downward,  and  it  struck 
the  ground  at  the  foot  of  the  target. 

"  Then  Heracles  took  up  his  bow  and  carelessly 

10  aimed  a  shaft  at  the  distant  mark.  Like  the  light- 
ning which  Zeus  hurls  from  the  high  clouds  straight 
down  upon  the  head  of  some  lordly  oak,  so  flashed 
the  unfailing  arrow  through  the  intervening  space, 
piercing  the  very  center  of  the  target. 

15      "^Lo,  now,  Eurytus,  my  old-time  friend,'  said 

Heracles;  Hhou  seest  that  I  have  won  the  victory 

,  over  thee.    Where  now  is  the  prize,  even  the  lovely 

lole,  that  was  promised  to  him  who  could  shoot 

better  than  thou  ? ' 

20  "But  my  father's  heart  sank  within  him  and 
shame  and  grief  took  mighty  hold  of  him.  And 
he  sent  lole  away  in  a  swift-sailing  ship,  to  the 
farther  shores  of  the  sea,  and  would  not  give  her 
to  Heracles  as  he  had  promised.    Then  the  great 

25  hero  turned  him  about  in  anger  and  went  back  to 
his  home  in  Calydon,  threatening  vengeance  upon 


BOOK  FOUE  113 

the  house  of  Eurytus.  I  besought  my  father  that 
he  would  remember  his  word,  and  would  call  lole 
home  again,  and  would  send  her  to  Heracles  to  be 
his  bride.  But  he  would  not  hearken,  for  the  great 
sorrow  which  weighed  upon  him.  He  placed  his  5 
matchless  bow  in  my  hands  and  bade  me  keep 
it  until  I  should  find  a  young  hero  worthy  to 
bear  it. 

" '  It  has  served  me  well,'  he  said,  ^  but  I  shall 
never  need  it  more.'  Then  he  bowed  his  head  upon  10 
his  hands,  and  when  I  looked  again  the  life  had 
gone  from  him.  Some  men  say  that  Apollo,  to 
punish  him  for  his  boasting,  slew  him  with  one  of 
his  silent  arrows ;  others  say  that  Heracles  smote 
him  because  he  refused  to  give  to  the  victor  the  15 
promised  prize,  even  fair  lole,  the  idol  of  his  heart. 
But  I  know  that  it  was  grief  and  shame,  and 
neither  Apollo  nor  Heracles,  that  brought  death 
upon  him." 

betokened :  foreshowed.  —  oyerweening  :  too  confident.  —  peer : 
equal.  —  tension:  degree  to  which  a  thing  may  be  drawn. — 
intervening  :  coming  between hearken :  listen. 


114  THE  HILL  READERS 

SONG  OF  MARION'S  MEN 
William  Cullen  Bryant 

William  Cullen  Bryant  (1794-1878)  was  an  American 
poet  and  journalist.  He  was  born  in  Cummington,  Massachu- 
setts. His  ancestors  on  both  sides  were  among  the  Plymouth 
Pilgrims.  He  was  reared  in  a  home  of  respectable  poverty, 
5  attended  the  district  school,  studied  Latin  and  Greek,  spent  a 
year  at  Williams  College  as  a  sophomore,  and  practiced  law  for 
several  years.  His  greatest  poem  was  written  when  he  was  a 
very  young  man.  In  1825  he  moved  to  New  York  and  began 
the  long  editorial  career  that  ended  only  with  his  death.  For 
10  fifty  years  he  was  a  distinguished  citizen  of  New  York,  and  his 
paper,  I'he  Evening  Post,  took  high  rank  among  the  journals  of 
our  country. 

Among  Bryant's  poems  will  be  found  such  universal  favorites 
as  Thanatopsis,  with  its  calm  view  of  death;  To  a  Waterfowl, 
15  with  its  simple  faith  in  divine  guidance;  A  Forest  Hymn,  with 
its  breath  of  fresh  woods ;  Death  of  the  Flowers,  with  its  nearness 
to  nature;  and  the  Song  of  Marion's  Men,  "  in  which  one  hears 
the  very  gallop  "  of  those  stout-hearted  patriots. 

Our  band  is  few,  but  true  and  tried, 
20  Our  leader  frank  and  bold ; 

The  British  soldier  trembles 

When  Marion's  name  is  told. 
Our  fortress  is  the  good  greenwood, 
Our  tent  the  cypress  tree ; 
25  We  know  the  forest  round  us, 

As  seamen  know  the  sea. 


BOOK  FOUR 


115 


We  know  its  walls  of  thorny  vines, 
Its  glades  of  reedy  grass, 

Its  safe  and  silent  islands 
Within  the  dark  morass. 


Woe  to  the  English  soldiery 

That  little  dread  us  near ! 
On  them  shall  light  at  midnight 

A  strange  and  sudden  fear :. 
When,  waking  to  their  tents  on  fire. 

They  grasp  their  arms  in  vain, 
And  they  who  stand  to  face  us 

Are  beat  to  earth  again ; 


10 


116  THE  HILL  READERS 

And  they  who  fly  in  terror  deem 

A  mighty  host  behind, 
And  hear  the  tramp  of  thousands 

Upon  the  hollow  wind. 

5  Then  sweet  the  hour  that  brings  release 

From  danger  and  from  toil ; 
We  talk  the  battle  over, 

And  share  the  battle's  spoil. 
The  woodland  rings  with  laugh  and  shout, 
10  As  if  a  hunt  were  up, 

And  woodland  flowers  are  gathered 

To  crown  the  soldier's  cup. 
With  merry  songs  we  mock  the  wind 
That  in  the  pine  top  grieves, 
15  And  slumber  long  and  sweetly, 

On  beds  of  oaken  leaves. 

Well  knows  the  fair  and  friendly  moon 
The  band  that  Marion  leads  — 

The  glitter  of  their  rifles, 
20  The  scampering  of  their  steeds. 

T  is  life  our  fiery  barbs  to  guide 
Across  the  moonlight  plains ; 

'T  is  life  to  feel  the  night-wind 
That  lifts  their  tossing  manes. 


BOOK  FOUR  117 

A  moment  in  the  British  camp  — 

A  moment  —  and  away 
Back  to  the  pathless  forest, 

Before  the  peep  of  day. 

Grave  men  there  are  by  broad  Santee,  5 

Grave  men  with  hoary  hairs, 
Their  hearts  are  all  with  Marion, 

For  Marion  are  their  prayers. 
And  lovely  ladies  greet  our  band. 

With  kindliest  welcoming,  lo 

With  smiles  like  those  of  summer, 

And  tears  like  those  of  spring. 
For  them  we  wear  these  trusty  arms. 

And  lay  them  down  no  more 
Till  we  have  driven  the  Briton  15 

Forever  from  our  shore. 


glade  :  clear  space  in  a  forest.  —  morass  :  marsh.  —  barbs  :  a 
shortening  of  Barbary  horses. 


118  THE  HILL  READERS 

THE  SAVING  OF  NESTIE 

Ian  Maclaren 

Ian  Maclaren  (1850-  )  is  the  pen  name  of  Rev.  John 
Watson  of  Scotland.  Dr.  Watson  became  famous  as  a  novelist 
by  his  clever  Beside  the  Bonnie  Brier  Bush.  Since  the  success 
of  that  book  the  author  has  written  many  other  stories  in 
6  rapid  succession.  The  Saving  of  Nestie  is  from  his  Young  Bar- 
barians. 

In  order  that  young  people  may  have  less  difficulty  in  enjoy- 
ing this  story,  the  editors  have  taken  the  liberty  of  doing  away 
with  much  of  the  dialect. 

10  Mr.  MacKinnon ,  nicknamed  Bulldog  by  his  pupils, 
used  to  promenade  the  empty  schoolroom  for  ten 
minutes  before  the  reassembling  at  two,  ^d  it  was 
rare  indeed  that  a  boy  was  late.  When  one  after- 
noon there  were  only  nineteen  present  and  forty- 

15  three  absent,  he  could  only  look  at  Dowbiggin,  and 
when  that  exemplary  youth  explained  that  the 
school  had  gone  up  to  the  top  of  the  Meadow  for  a 
bath,  and  suggested  they  were  still  enjoying  them- 
selves. Bulldog  was  much  lifted. 

20  "  Bathing  is  a  healthy  exercise,  and  excellent  for 
the  mind,  but  it 's  necessary  to  bring  a  glow  to  the 
skin  afterwards,  or  there  might  be  a  chill";  and  he 
searched  out  and  felt  a  superior  cane  kept  for  the 
treatment  of  truants  and  other  grievous  offenders. 


BOOK  FOUR  119 

It  was  exactly  2.15  when  the  door  opened  and  a 
procession  of  forty-two  entered  panting  and  breath- 
less, headed  by  Duncan  Robertson,  who  carried  his 
head  erect,  with  a  light  in  his  eye,  and  closed  by 
Peter,  whose  hair  was  like  unto  that  of  a  drowned  5 
rat.  The  nineteen  could  only  smack  their  lips  with 
expectation  and  indicate  by  signs  the  treat  await- 
ing their  comrades. 

"  I  've  had  charge  of  the  departments  of  writing, 
arithmetic,  and  mathematics  in  the  Muirtown  Sem-  lo 
inary,"  began  Bulldog,  "  for   fifty-five  years  last 
Martinmas,  and  near  eighteen  hundred  laddies  have 
passed  through  my  hands.    Some  o'  them  were  good 
and  some  were  bad," — Mr.  MacKinnon  spoke  with 
a  judicial  calmness  that  was  awful,  —  "  some  were  i5 
your  grandfathers,   some  were  your  fathers ;    but 
such  a  set  of   impudent,   brazen-faced  little  ras- 
cals— "     Then  his    composure  failed  him  as  he 
looked  at  the  benches.    "  What  have  you  to  say  for 
yourselves,  for  it  will  be  three  weeks  before  I  am  20 
over  you  all  ? " 

For  a  while  no  one  moved,  and  then  Duncan 
Robertson  rose  in  his  place  and  made  speech  for 
his  fellows  like  a  gentleman's  son. 

"  We  are  sorry  for  being  late,  sir,  but  it  was  not  25 
our  blame;  we  had  been  bathing  in  the  golfers' 


120  THE  HILL  READERS 

pool,  and  were  dressing  to  run  down  to  school  in 
good  time.  Little  Nestie  —  I  mean  Ernest  Moly- 
neux,  sir  —  had  stayed  in  a  little  longer,  and  some 
one  cried,  '  Nestie  's  drowning ! '  and  there  the  little 
6  chap  was,  being  carried  away  by  the  current." 

''  Is  '  Nestie '  —  drowned  ?  "  and  they  all  noticed 

the  break  in  Bulldog's  voice,  and  remembered  that 

if  he  showed  indulgence  to  any  one  it  was  to  the 

little  English  lad  that  had  appeared  in  Muirtown 

10  Hfe  as  one  out  of  due  place. 

"  No,  sir ;  Nestie 's  safe,  and  some  women  have 

taken  him  home;  but  he  was  very  nearly  gone," 

and  Duncan  was  plainly  shaken.     "  He  's  a  good 

wee  man,  and  —  and  it  would  have  been  terrible 

15  to  see  him  die  before  our  eyes." 

^'  Who  saved  Nestie  ?  "  Bulldog's  face  was  white, 
and  Jock  declared  afterwards  that  tears  were  in 
his  eyes  —  but  that  we  did  not  believe. 

"  It  was  one  of  the  boys,  sir,"  —  Robertson's 
20  voice  was  very  proud,  — "  and  it  was  a  gallant 
deed  ;  but  I  can't  give  his  name,  because  he  made 
me  promise  not  to  tell." 

The  master  looked  around  the  school,  and  there 
was  a  flush  on  his  cheek. 
26      "  John  Howieson,"  with  a  voice  that  knew  no 
refusal ;  and  Jock  stood  in  his  place. 


BOOK  FOUR 


121 


"  Give  me  the  laddie's  name  who  saved  Nestie." 

"It  was  Speug,  sir,  and  —  it  was  grand;  but  I 

would  not  have  told  had  you  not  asked  me,  and 


—  it's  not  my  blame";  and  Jock  cast  a  glance 
where  Peter  was  at  that  instant  striving  to  hide   5 
himself  behind  a  slate. 

"Peter  McGuffie,  come  out  this  moment";  and 
Peter,  who  had  obeyed  this  order  in  other  cir- 
cumstances with  an  immovable  countenance,  now 
presented  the  face  of  one  who  had  broken  a  till.       10 

"  Tell  the  story,  Duncan  Robertson,  every  word 
of  it,  that  each  laddie  in  this  room  may  remember 
it  as  long  as  he  lives." 


122  THE  HILL  READEKS 

"We  had  nearly  all  dressed,  and  some  of  us 
had  started  for  school  —  and  when  I  got  back 
McGuffie  had  jumped  and  was  out  in  the  current 
waiting  for  Nestie  to  come  up.    We  saw  his  face  at 

5  last,  white  on  the  water,  and  shouted  to  Peter, 
and  —  he  had  him  in  a  minute  and  made  for 
shore ;  grand  swimming,  sir ;  not  one  of  us  could 
have  done  it  except  himself.  A  salmon  fisher 
showed  us  how  to  rub  Nestie  till  he  came  round, 

10  and  —  he  smiled  at  us  and  said,  ^I'm  all  right; 
sorry  to  trouble  you  chaps.'  Then  we  ran  for  school 
as  hard  as  we  could,  and  —  that's  all,  sir." 

"  You  are  not  truth-telling,  Duncan  Robertson," 
suddenly  broke  out  Speug,  goaded  beyond  endur- 

15  ance ;  "  you  helped  out  Nestie  yourself,  and  you  're 
—  as  much  to  blame  as  I  am.'* 

"  All  I  did,  sir,"  —  and  Robertson's  face  was 
burning  red,  —  "  was  to  meet  Peter  and  take  Nestie 
off   his  hands  quite  near  the  bank;  he  had  the 

20  danger  ;  I  —  did  nothing  —  was  too  late,  in  fact, 
to  be  of  use." 

Speug  might  have  replied  to  this  barefaced  at- 
tempt at  getting  out  of  trouble,  but  Bulldog  was 
himself  again  and  gripped  the  reins  of  authority. 

26  "  Silence ! "  and  his  emotion  found  vent  in  thun- 
der;  "no  arguing  in  my  presence.    You're   an 


BOOK  FOUR  123 

impudent  fellow,  Peter  McGuffie,  and  have  been 
all  your  days  the  most  troublesome,  mischievous, 
upsetting  laddie  in  Muirtown  School. 

"  You  have  fought  with  your  fists,  you  have 
fought  with  snowballs ;  you  have  played  truant  5 
times  without  number;  and  a*^  for  your  tricks  in 
school,  they're  beyond  knowledge.  And  now  you 
must  needs  put  a  cap  on  the  concern  with  this 
business ! 

"There's  no  use  denying  it,  Peter,  for^the  evi-  lo 
dence  is  plain  "  —  and  now  Bulldog  began  to  speak 
with  great  deliberation.  "  You  saw  a  little  laddie 
out  of  his  depth  and  likely  to  be  drowned."  (Peter 
dared  not  lift  his  head  this  time  ;  it  was  going  to 
be  a  bad  case.)  15 

"  You  might  have  given  the  alarm  and  got  the 
salmon  fishers,  but,  instead  of  acting  like  any  quiet, 
decent,  well-brought-up  laddie,  and  walking  down 
to  the  school  in  time  for  the  geometry  "  (the  school 
believed  that  the  master's  eye  rested  on  William  20 
Dowbiggin),  "you  jumped,  clothes  and  all,  into 
the  Tay."  (There  was  no  redeeming  feature,  and 
Peter's  expression  was  hopeless.) 

"  Nor  was  that  all.    The  wicked  spirit  that 's  in 
you,  Peter  McGuffie,  made  you  swim  out  where  the  25 
river  was  running  strongest  and  an  able-bodied 


124  THE  HILL  READEES 

man  would  not  care  to  go.  And  for  what  did  you 
forget  yourself  and  risk  your  life  ?  "  But  for  the 
first  time  there  was  no  bravery  left  in  Peter  to 
answer;  his  wickedness  was  beyond  excuse,  as  he 

5  now  felt. 

"Just  to  save  an  orphan  laddie  from  a  watery 
death.  And  you  did  it,  Peter;  and  it  —  beats 
everything  that  you  have  done  since  you  came  into 
Muirtown  Academy !    As  for  you,  Duncan  Robert- 

10  son,  you  may  say  what  you  like,  but  it 's  my  opinion 
that  you  are  not  one  grain  better.  Peter  got  in 
first,  for  he  's  a  perfect  genius  for  mischief,  —  he 's 
forever  on  the  spot,  —  but  you  were  after  him  as 
soon  as  you  could."    It  was  clear  now  that  Duncan 

15  was  in  the  same  condemnation  and  would  share  the 

same  reward ;  whereat  Peter's  heart  was  lifted,  for 

Robertson  s  treachery  cried  to  Heaven  for  judgment. 

"  Boys  of  Muirtown,  do  you  see  those  tablets  ?  " 

and  Bulldog  pointed  to  the  lists  in  gold  of  the 

20  former  pupils  who  had  distinguished  themselves 
over  the  world,  —  prizemen,  soldiers,  travelers, 
writers,  preachers,  lawyers,  doctors.  "  It 's  a  grand 
roll,  and  an  honor  to  have  a  place  in  it,  and  there 
are  two  new  names  to  be  added. 

25  "Laddies" — and  Bulldog  came  down  from  his 
desk  and  stood  opposite  the  culprits,  whose  one 


BOOK  FOUR  125 

wish  was  that  the  floor  might  open  beneath  them 
and  swallow  them  up  —  "  you  are  the  sons  of  men, 
and  I  knew  you  had  the  beginnings  of  men  in  you. 
I  am  proud  —  to  shake  hands  with  you,  and  to. be 

—  your  master.    Be  off  this  instant !  run  like  mad    5 
to  your  homes  and  change  your  clothes,  and  be 
back  inside  half  an  hour,  or  it  will  be  the  worse 
for  you !    And,  look  ye  here,  I  would  like  to  know 

—  how  Nestie  is." 

His  walk  through  the  room  was  always,  full  of  lo 
majesty,  but  on  that  day  it  passed  imagination, 
and  from  time  to  time  he  could  be  heard  saying: 
'^  A  pair  of  young  rascals !  Men  of  their  hands, 
though,  men  of  their  hands !  Their  fathers'  sons  ! 
Well  done,  Peter !  "  To  which  the  benches  listened  is 
with  awe,  for  never  had  they  known  Bulldog  after 
this  fashion. 

When  the  school  assembled  next  Monday  morn- 
ing the  boys  read  in  fresh,  shining  letters : 

PETER   McGUFFIE  20 

AND 

DUNCAN  R.  S.  ROBERTSON 

WHO    AT    THE    RISK    OF    THEIR    OWN    LIVES 
SAVED    A    SCHOOLFELLOW    FROM    DROWNING 


exemplary :  well  behaved.  —  Martinmas :  the  feast  of  St.  Martin, 
on  the  11th  of  November.  — goaded  :  tortured. 


126  THE  HILL  READERS 

THE  GRAPEVINE  SWING 

Samuel  Minturn  Peck 

Samuel  Minturn  Peck  (1853-        ),  physician  and  author, 

was  born  in  Tuscaloosa,  Alabama.    He  was  graduated  from  the 

University  of  Alabama  in  1876,  and  then  studied  medicine  at 

Bellevue  Medical  College  in  New  York.    He  is  the  author  of  many 

6  pieces  of  fiction  and  several  volumes  of  verse. 

When  I  was  a  boy  on  the  old  plantation, 

Down  by  the  deep  bayou  — 
The  fairest  spot  of  all  creation 

Under  the  arching  blue  — 
10      When  the  wind  came  over  the  cotton  and  com, 

To  the  long  slim  loop  I  'd  spring 
With  brown  feet  bare  and  hat-brim  torn. 

And  swing  in  the  grapevine  swing. 

Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing, 
15      Laughing  where  the  wild  birds  sing, 

I  dream  and  I  sigh 

For  the  days  gone  by. 
Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing. 

Out  —  o'er  the  water-lilies,  bonnie  and  bright, 
20  Back  —  to  the  moss-grown  trees, 

I  shouted  and  laughed  with  a  heart  as  light 
As  a  wild  rose  tossed  by  the  breeze. 


BOOK  FOUR  127 

The  mocking-bird  joined  in  my  reckless  glee ; 

I  longed  for  no  angel's  wing ; 
I  was  just  as  near  heaven  as  I  wanted  to  be, 

Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing. 

Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing,  6 

Laughing  where  the  wild  birds  sing, 

Oh  to  be  a  boy 

With  a  heart  full  of  joy, 
Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing! 

I  'm  weary  at  noon,  I  'm  weary  at  night,  lo 

I  'm  fretted  and  sore  of  heart, 
And  care  is  sowing  my  locks  with  white 

As  I  wend  through  the  fevered  mart ; 
I  'm  tired  of  the  world,  with  its  pride  and  pomp, 

And  fame  seems  a  worthless  thing.  is 

I  'd  barter  it  all  for  one  day's  romp. 

And  a  swing  in  the  grapevine  swing. 

Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing, 
Laughing  where  the  wild  birds  sing, 

I  would  I  were  away  20 

From  the  world  to-day, 
Swinging  in  the  grapevine  swing. 

bayou  :  an  inlet  of  water  from  a  gulf  or  lake.  —  bonnie  :  pretty. 
wend  :  go.  —  mart :  business  place. 


128  THE  HILL  READEKS 

THE  TIMID  HARE  AND  THE  FLIGHT  OF 
THE  BEASTS 

The  Jataka 

The  JXtaka  (ja'ta-ka)  is  one  of  the  sacred  books  of  the  priests 
of  Buddha.  It  contains  five  hundred  and  fifty  stories.  All  these 
stories  are  about  some  form  of  life  that  Buddha  lived  before  his 
final  birth  as  a  man  and  as  the  founder  of  a  religion  believed  by 
6  thousands.  The  story  below  gives  an  account  of  Buddha  when  he 
lived  in  the  form  of  a  lion. 

Once  upon  a  time  the  Bodhisatta  (Buddha)  came 
to  life  as  a  young  lion.  When  fully  grown  he 
lived  in  a  wood.    At  this  time  there  was  near  the 

10  Western  Ocean  a  grove  of  palms  mixed  with  vilva 
trees.  A  certain  hare  lived  here  beneath  a  palm 
sapling,  at  the  foot  of  a  vilva  tree.  One  day  this 
hare,  after  feeding,  came  and  lay  down  beneath  a 
young  palm  tree.    And  the  thought  struck  him : 

15  "If  this  earth  should  be  destroyed,  what  would 
become  of  me  ?  "  And  at  this  very  moment  a  ripe 
vilva  fruit  fell  on  a  palm  leaf.  At  the  sound  of  it 
the  hare  thought,  "  This  solid  earth  is  falling  in"; 
and,  starting  up,  he  fled  without  so  much  as  looking 

20  behind  him.  Another  saw  him  scampering  off  as 
if  frightened  to  death,  and  asked  the  cause  of  his 
panic  flight.  "  Pray,  don't  ask  me,"  he  said.  The 
other  hare  cried,  "Pray,  sir,  what  is  it?"  and 


BOOK  FOUE 


129 


kept  running  after  him.  Then  the  hare  stopped 
a  moment  and,  without  looking  back,  said,  "  The 
earth  here  is  breaking  up."  And  at  this  the  second 
hare  ran  after  the  other.  And  so  first  one  and 
then  another  hare  caught  sight  of  him  running. 


and  joined  in  the  chase,  till  one  hundred  thousand 
hares  all  took  flight  together.  They  were  seen  by 
a  deer,  a  boar,  an  elk,  a  buffalo,  a  wild  ox,  a  rhi- 
noceros, a  tiger,  a  lion,  and  an  elephant.  And 
when  these  asked  what  it  meant  and  were  told 
that  the  earth  was  breaking  up,  they  too  took 
flight.  So  by  degrees  this  host  of  animals  extended 
to  the  length  of  a  full  league. 


10 


130  THE  HILL  READERS 

When  the  Bodhisatta  saw  this  headlong  flight  of 
the  animals,  and  heard  that  the  cause  of  it  was  that 
the  earth  was  coming  to  an  end,  he  thought :  "  The 
earth  is  nowhere  coming  to  an  end.    Surely  it  must 

5  be  some  sound  which  was  misunderstood  by  them. 
And  if  I  don't  make  a  great  effort,  they  will  all 
perish.  I  will  save  their  hves."  So  with  the  speed 
of  a  lion  he  got  before  them  to  the  foot  of  a  moun- 
tain, and  lionlike  roared  three  times.    They  were 

10  terribly  frightened  at  the  lion,  and,  stopping  in 
their  flight,  stood  all  huddled  together.  The  lion 
went  in  amongst  them  and  asked  why  they  were 
running  away. 

"  The  earth  is  falling  in,"  they  answered. 

15       "Who  saw  it  falling  in?"  he  said. 

"  The  elephants  know  all  about  it,"  they  replied. 

He  asked  the  elephants.    "  We   don't   know," 

they  said ;  "the  lions  know."    But  the  lions  said, 

"We  don't  know;  the  tigers  know."    The  tigers 

20  said,  "  The  rhinoceroses  know."  The  rhinoceroses 
said,  "  The  wild  oxen  know."  The  wild  oxen, 
"  The  buffaloes."  The  buffaloes,  "  The  elks."  The 
elks,  "  The  boars."  The  boars,  "  The  deer."  The 
deer  said,  "We  don't  know;  the  hares  know." 

25  When  the  hares  were  questioned  they  pointed  to 
one  particular  hare  and  said,  "  This  one  told  us." 


BOOK  FOUR  131 

So  the  Bodhisatta  asked,  "Is  it  true,  sir,  that 
the  earth  is  breaking  up  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  saw  it,"  said  the  hare. 

"  Where,"  he  asked,  "  were  you  living  when  you 
saw  it?"  5 

"  Near  the  ocean,  sir,  in  a  grove  of  palms  mixed 
with  vilva  trees.    For  as  I  was  lying  beneath  the 
shade  of  a  palm  sapling  at  the  foot  of  a  vilva  tree 
I  thought,  ^If  this  earth  should  break  up,  where  ' 
shall  I  go?'    And  at  that  very  momenta  I  heard  lo 
the  sound  of  breaking  up  of  the  earth,  and  I  fled." 

Thought  the  lion :  "  A  ripe  vilva  fruit  evidently 
must  have  fallen  on  a  palm  leaf  and  made  a  thud, 
and  this  hare  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
earth  was  coming  to  an  end,  and  ran  away.  I  will  is 
find  out  the  exact  truth  about  it."  So  he  reassured 
the  herd  of  animals,  and  said:  "I  will  take  the 
hare  and  go  and  find  out  exactly  whether  the  earth 
is  coming  to  an  end  or  not,  in  the  place  pointed 
out  by  him.  Until  I  return  do  you  stay  here."  20 
Then,  placing  the  hare  on  his  back,  he  sprang  for- 
ward with  the  speed  of  a  lion,  and,  putting  the 
hare  down  in  a  palm  grove,  he  said,  "  Come,  show 
us  the  place  you  meant." 

"  I  dare  not,  my  lord,"  said  the  hare.  25 

"  Come,  don't  be  afraid,"  said  the  lion. 


132  THE  HILL  READERS 

The  hare,  not  venturing  to  go  near  the  vilva 
tree,  stood  afar  off  and  cried,  "  Yonder,  sir,  is  the 
place  of  dreadful  sounds";  and  so  saying,  he  re- 
peated the  first  stanza: 

5  "  From  the  spot  where  I  did  dwell 

Issued  forth  a  fearful  thud ; 
What  it  was  I  could  not  tell, 
Nor  what  caused  it  understood." 

After  hearing  what  the  hare  said,  the  lion  went 
10  to  the  foot  of  the  vilva  tree  and  saw  the  spot  where 
the  hare  had  been  lying  beneath  the  shade  of  the 
palm  tree,  and  the  ripe  vilva  fruit  that  fell  on 
the  palm  leaf,  and  having  carefully  found  out  that 
the  earth  had  not  broken  up,  he  placed  the  hare 
15  on  his  back,  and  with  the  speed  of  a  lion  soon 
came  again  to  the  herd  of  beasts. 

Then  he  told  them  the  whole  story,  and  said, 
"  Don't  be  afraid."  And  having  thus  reassured  the 
herd  of  beasts,  he  let  them  go.  Verily,  if  it  had 
20  not  been  for  the  Bodhisatta  at  that  time,  all  the 
beasts  would  have  rushed  into  the  sea  and  per- 
ished. It  was  all  owing  to  the  Bodhisatta  that 
they  escaped  death. 

From  the  JQtaka.    Translated  by  H,  N.  Francis 

league :  a  measure  of  distance,  varying  in  different  countries 
from  two  to  four  miles. 


BOOK  FOUR  133 

BOB  SAVES  HIS  FATHER'S  LIFE^ 

Thomas  Nelson  Page 

Thomas  Nelson  Page  (1853-  ),  one  of  the  most  promi- 
nent of  the  group  of  Southern  writers  who  arose  after  the  Civil 
War,  and  who  have  written  about  subjects  connected  with  the 
war,,  was  born  at  his  father's  country  home,  Oakland,  Virginia. 

He  received  his  academic  training  at  Washington  and  Lee     5 
University,  and  his  legal  training  at  the  University  of  Virginia. 
For  nearly  twenty  years  he  practiced  law  in  Richmond.    He  now 
lives  in  Washington  and  devotes  himself  to  lecturing  and  writing. 

His  boyhood's  home  was  situated  between  two  of  the  main 
roads  leading  to  Richmond.  Hence  during  the  Civil  War  he  saw  10 
the  passing  and  repassing  of  both  Northern  and  Southern  armies, 
and  learned,  out  of  sad  experience,  many  of  the  ways  of  war. 
The  experience  of  these  anxious  hours  has  found  expression  in 
three  books  for  children,  —  Two  Little  Confederates,  Among  the 
Camps,  and  Santa  Claus'  Partner.  Marse  Chan  and  Red  Rock  are  15 
amongst  the  most  entertaining  of  his  stories  for  older  readers. 

Note.  Bob's  father,  a  colonel  in  the  Confederate  army,  found 
himself  not  very  far  from  home  one  Christmas.  He  had  so  great 
a  longing  to  see  his  family  that  he  decided  to  slip  through  the 
Union  lines.  Putting  on  citizens'  clothes  instead  of  his  uniform,  20 
he  arrived  safely,  but  was  soon  followed  by  soldiers  who  were 
prepared  to  arrest  him  and  shoot  him  as  a  spy. 

As  his  father  concealed  himself,  Bob  had  left 
the  chamber.    He  was  in  a  perfect  agony  of  mind. 
He  knew  that  his  father  could  not  escape,  and  if  25 
he  were  found  dressed  in  citizens'  clothes,  he  felt 

1  From  A  Captured  Santa  Claus.  Copyright,  1892.  Charles 
Scribner's  Sons,  Publishers. 


134  THE  HILL  READERS 

that  he  could  have  but  one  fate.  All  sorts  of 
schemes  entered  his  boy's  head  to  save  him.  Sud- 
denly he  thought  of  the  small  group  of  prisoners 
he  had  seen  pass  by  about  dark.  He  would  save 
6  him  !  Putting  on  his  hat,  he  opened  the  front  door 
and  walked  out.  A  sentinel  accosted  him  surlily 
to  know  where  he  was  going.  Bob  invited  him  in 
to  get  warm,  and  soon  had  him  engaged  in  ear- 
nest conversation. 
10  "  What  do  you  do  with  your  prisoners  when  you 
catch  them  ?  "  inquired  Bob. 

"  Send  some  on  to  prison,  and  hang  some." 
"I  mean  when  you  first  catch  them." 
"  Oh,  they  stay  in  camp.    We  don't  treat  them 
15  bad  unless  they  be  spies.    There 's  a  batch  at  camp 
now,  got  in  this  evening  —  sort  o'  Christmas  gift." 
The  soldier  laughed  aloud  as  he  stamped  his  feet 
to  keep  warm. 

"  Where 's  your  camp  ?  "  Bob  asked. 
20      "About  a  mile  from  here,  right  on  the  road,  or 
rather  right  on  the  hill  at  the  edge  of  the  pines 
beyond  the  creek." 

The  boy  left  his  companion  and  sauntered  in  and 

out  among  the  other  men  in  the  yard.    Presently 

25  he  moved  on  to  the  edge  of  the  lawn  beyond  them. 

No  one  took  further  notice  of  him.    In  a  second  he 


135 


136  THE  HILL  READERS 

had  slipped  through  the  gate  and  was  flying  across 
the  field.  He  knew  every  foot  of  ground  as  well  as 
a  hare,  for  he  had  been  hunting  and  setting  traps 
over  it  since  he  was  as  big  as  little  Charlie.    He 

6  had  to  turn  out  of  his  way  to  make  a  detour  at  the 
creek  to  avoid  the  picket,  and  the  dense  briers  were 
very  bad  and  painful.  However,  he  worked  his  way 
through,  though  his  face  was  severely  scratched. 
Into  the  creek  he  plunged.    "  Dutch  !  "    He   had 

10  stepped  into  a  hole,  and  the  water  was  as  cold  as 
ice.  However,  he  was  through,  and  at  the  top  of  the 
hill  he  could  see  the  glow  of  the  camp  fires  light- 
ing up  the  sky. 

He  crept  cautiously  up  and  saw  the  dark  forms 

15  of  the  sentinels  pacing  backward  and  forward, 
wrapped  in  their  overcoats.  How  could  he  ever 
get  by  them  ?  His  heart  began  to  beat  and  his 
teeth  to  chatter,  but  he  walked  boldly  up. 

"  Halt !    who   goes   there  ? "    cried    the   sentry, 

20  bringing  his  gun  down  and  advancing  on  him. 
Bob  kept  on,  and  the  sentinel,  finding  that  it 
was  only  a  boy,  looked  rather  sheepish. 

"  Don't  let  him  capture  you,  Jim,"  called  one  of 
them ;  "  Call  the  Corporal  of  the  Guard,"  said  an- 

26  other ;  "  Order  up  the  reserves,"  a  third ;  and  so  on. 
Bob  had  to  undergo  something  of  an  examination. 


BOOK  FOUR  137 

''1  know  the  little  Johnny,"  said  one  of  them. 

They  made  him  draw  up  to  the  fire  and  made 
quite  a  fuss  over  him.  Bob  had  his  wits  about 
him,  and  soon  learned  that  a  batch  of  prisoners 
were  at  a  fire  a  hundred  yards  further  back.  He  5  . 
therefore  worked  his  way  over  there,  although  he 
was  advised  to  stay  where  he  was  and  get  dry, 
and  had  many  offers  of  a  bunk  from  his  new 
friends,  some  of  whom  followed  him  over  to  where 
the  prisoners  were.  ^ ,  10 

Most  of  them  were  quartered  for  the  night  in  a 
hut  before  which  a  guard  was  stationed.  One  or 
two,  however,  sat  around  the  camp  fire  chatting 
with  their  guards.  Among  them  was  a  major  in 
full  uniform.  Bob  singled  him  out;  he  was  just  is 
about  his  father's  size. 

Bob  was  instantly  the  center  of  attraction. 
Again  he  told  them  he  was  from  Holly  Hill; 
again  he  was  recognized  by  one  of  the  men. 

"  Run  away  to  join  the  army  ?  "  asked  one.  20 

"No,"  said  Bob,  his  eyes  flashing  at  the  mere 
suggestion. 

"Lost?" 

"  No." 

"  Mother  whipped  you  ?  "  25 

"No." 


138  THE  HILL   READERS 

As  soon  as  their  curiosity  had  somewhat  sub- 
sided, Bob,  who  had  hardly  been  able  to  contain 
himself,  said  to  the  Confederate  major  in  a  low 
undertone,  ''My  father.  Colonel  Stafford,  is  at 
5  home,  concealed,  and  the  Yankees  have  taken  pos- 
session of  the  house." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  the  major,  looking  down  at  him 
as  if  casually. 

"  He  cannot  escape,  and  he  has  on  citizens' 
10  clothes,  and  —  "  Bob's  voice  choked  suddenly  as 
he  gazed  at  the  major's  uniform. 

"Well?"    The    prisoner   for   a   second   looked 

sharply  down  at  the  boy's  earnest  face.    Then  he 

put  his  hand  under  his  chin  and,  lifting  it,  looked 

15  into  his  eyes.    Bob  shivered  and  in  spite  of  his 

efforts  a  sob  escaped  him. 

The  major  placed  his  hand  firmly  on  his  knee. 
"  Why,  you  are  wringing  wet,"  he  said  aloud.  "  I 
wonder  you  are  not  frozen  to  death."  He  rose  and 
20  stripped  off  his  coat.  "  Here,  get  into  this  ";  and 
before  the  boy  knew  it  the  major  had  bundled  him 
into  his  coat  and  rolled  up  the  sleeves  so  that 
he  could  use  his  hands.  The  action  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  rest  of  the  group,  and  several  of 
26  the  Yankees  offered  to  take  the  boy  and  give  him 
dry  clothes. 


BOOK  FOUR  139 

"No,  sir,"  laughed  the  major;  "this  boy  is  a 
rebel.  Do  you  think  he  will  wear  one  of  your 
Yankee  suits  ?  He  's  a  little  major,  and  I  'm  going 
to  give  him  a  major  s  uniform." 

In  a  minute  he  had  stripped  off   his  trousers    5 
and  was  helping  Bob  into  them,  standing  himself 
in  his  underclothes  in  the  icy  air.    The  legs  were 
three  times  too  long  for  the  boy,  and  the  waist 
came  up  to  his  armpits. 

"  Now  go  home  to  your  mother,"  said  tbe  major,  lo 
laughing  at  his  appearance;    "and  some  of  you 
fellows  get  me  some  clothes  or  a  blanket.    I  '11 
wear  your  Yankee  uniform  to-night  out  of  sheer 
necessity." 

Bob  trotted  around,  keeping  as  far  away  from  15 
the  light  of  the  camp  fires  as  possible.    He  soon 
found  himself  unobserved,  and  reached  the  shadow 
of  a  line  of  huts,  and  keeping  well  in  it,  he  came 
to  the  edge  of  the  camp.    He  watched  his  oppor- 
tunity, and  when  the  sentry's  back  was  turned  20 
slipped  out  into  the  darkness.    In  an  instant  he 
was  flying  down  the  hill.    The  heavy  clothes  im- 
peded him,  and  he  stopped  only  long  enough  to 
snatch  them  off  and  roll  them  into  a  bundle,  and 
sped  on  his  way  again.    He  struck  the  main  road,  25 
and  was  running  down  the  hill  as  fast  as  his  legs 


140  THE  HILL  READEES 

could  carry  him,  when  he  suddenly  found  himself 
almost  on  a  group  of  dark  objects  who  were  stand- 
ing in  the  road  just  in  front  of  him.  One  of  them 
moved.    It  was  the  picket.    Bob  suddenly  stopped. 

5  His  heart  was  in  his  throat. 

"Who  goes  there?"  said  a  stern  voice.    Bob's 
heart  beat  as  if  it  would  spring  out  of  his  body. 

"Come  in;  we  have  you,"  said   the   man,  ad- 
vancing. 

10  Bob  sprang  across  the  ditch  beside  the  road, 
and  putting  his  hand  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence, 
flung  himself  over  it,  bundle  and  all,  flat  on  the 
other  side,  just  as  a  blaze  of  Hght  burst  from 
the  picket,  and  the  report  of   a  carbine  startled 

15  the  silent  night.  The  bullet  grazed  the  boy's  arm 
and  crashed  through  the  rail.  In  a  second  Bob 
was  on  his  feet.  The  picket  was  almost  on  him. 
Seizing  his  bundle,  he  dived  into  the  thicket  as 
a  half  dozen  shots  were  sent  ringing  after  him, 

20  the  bullets  hissing  and  whistling  over  his  head. 
Several  men  dashed  into  the  woods  after  him 
in  hot  pursuit,  and  two  more  galloped  up  the 
road  to  cut  him  off ;  but  Bob's  feet  were  winged, 
and  he  slipped  through  briers  and  brush  like  a 

26  scared  hare.  They  scratched  his  face  and  threw 
him  down,  but  he  was  up  again.    Now  and  then  a 


BOOK  FOUR  141 

shot  crashed  behind  him,  but  he  did  not  care  for 
that ;  he  thought  dnly  of  being  caught. 

A  few  hundred  yards  up  he  plunged  into  the 
stream  and,  wading  across,  was  soon  safe  from 
his  pursuers.  Breathless,  he  climbed  the  hill,  made  5 
his  way  through  the  woods,  and  came  out  into  the 
open  fields.  Across  these  he  sped  like  a  deer.  He 
had  almost  given  out.  What  if  they  should  have 
caught  his  father  and  he  should  be  too  late !  A 
sob  escaped  him  at  the  bare  thought,  and  Jxe  broke  lo 
again  into  a  fun,  wiping  off  with  his  sleeve  the 
tears  that  would  come.  The  wind  cut  him  like  a 
knife,  but  he  did  not  mind  that. 

As  he  neared  the  house  he  feared  that  he  might 
be  seen  again  and  the  clothes  taken  from  him ;  is 
so  he  stopped  for  a  moment  and  slipped  them 
on  once  more,  rolling  up  the  sleeves  and  legs 
as  well  as  he  could.  He  crossed  the  yard  undis- 
turbed. He  went  around  to  the  same  door  by 
which  he  had  come  out,  for  he  thought  this  his  20 
best  chance.  The  same  sentinel  was  there,  walk- 
ing up  and  down,  blowing  his  cold  hands.  Had 
his  father  been  arrested  ?  Bob's  teeth  chattered, 
but  it  was  with  suppressed  excitement. 

"  Pretty  cold,"  said  the  sentry.  25 

"  Ye-es,"  gasped  Bob. 


142 


THE  HILL  HEADERS 


^'  Your  mother 's  been  out  here,  looking  for  you, 
I  guess,"  said  the  soldier  with  much  friendliness. 

"I  rec-reckon  so,"  panted  Bob,  moving  toward 
the  door.  Did  that  mean  that  his  father  was 
5  caught  ?  He  opened  the  door  and  slipped  quietly 
into  the  corridor. 

General  Denby,  the  Federal  officer  who  com- 
manded the  troops  now  in  possession  of  Colonel 
Stafford's  house,  still  sat  silent  before  the  hall  fire. 
10  Bob  listened  at  his  father's  chamber  door.  His 
mother  was  weeping;  his  father  stood  calm  and 
resolute  before  the  fire  ;  he  had  determined  to  give 
himself  up. 

"  If  you  only  did  not  have  on  those  clothes ! " 
15  sobbed  Mrs.  Stafford.  "  If  I  only  had  not  cut  up 
the  old  uniform  for  the  children ! " 

"  Mother  1  mother !  I  have  one  !  "  gasped  Bob, 
bursting  into  the  room  and  tearing  off  the  unknown 
major's  uniform. 


I; 


BOOK  FOUR  143 

LITTLE  ALVILDA^  — I 

Hjalmar  Hjorth  Boyesen 

Hjalmar  Hjorth  Boyesen  (1848-1895)  was  born  in  Nor- 
way and  received  a  university  education  in  that  country.  In 
1869,  when  he  was  twenty-one  years  old,  he  became  a  citizen  of 
the  United  States.  For  some  years  he  was  professor  of  German 
at  Cornell  University,  and  at  the  time  of  his  death  held  the  same  5 
professorship  in  Columbia  University,  New  York. 

Young  readers  are  especially  interested  in  his  Norseland  series 
of  books  for  boys.  These  include  Norseland  Tales,  Boyhood  in 
Norway,  The  Modern  Viking,  Against  Odds,  and  The  Qotden  Calf. 

There  was  once  a  clergyman  who  hved  some-  lo 
where  in  the  mountain  valleys  of  Norway.    He  had 
five  children,  all  of  whom  were  dear  to  him  ;  but 
there  was  one  among  them  who  was  nearer  to  his 
heart  than  all  the  rest ;  and  that  was  a  little  girl, 
five  years  old,  named  Alvilda.    It  may  have  been  is 
because  she  was  the  youngest  of  the  five ;  for  the 
youngest  child,  especially  if  it  is  a  girl,  is  always 
likely  to  be  the  father's  pet;  or  it  may  have  been 
because  she  was  a  very  sweet  and  lovable  child, 
who  drew  all  hearts  toward  her  as  the  sun  draws  20 
the  flowers.    When  her  mother  took  her  to  church 
on  Sunday  morning  she  slipped  like  a  sunbeam 

1  From  Norseland  Tales.  Copyright,  1894.  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons,  Publishers. 


144  THE  HILL  READERS 

among  the  congregation,  and  all  faces  brightened 
and  a  softer  look  stole  into  the  eyes  of  old  and 
young  when  she  passed  by.  In  her  quaint  little 
poke  bonnet  and  her  old-fashioned  gown,  and  with 

6  her  chubby  little  hands  folded  over  her  mother's 
h3rmn  book,  she  did,  indeed,  look  so  bewitching 
that  it  seemed  a  hardship  not  to  stop  and  kiss  her. 
"Bless  the  child!"  said  the  matrons,  when  her 
bright  smile  beamed  upon  them.    "  Bless  her  dear 

10  little  heart !  "  cried  the  young  girls  admiringly,  as 
they  knelt  down  in  the  road  to  pat  Alvilda,  to  kiss 
her,  or  only  to  touch  her  in  passing. 

When  Alvilda's  fifth  birthday  came  it  happened 
to  be  right  in  the  middle  of  the  berry  season ;  and 

16  it  was  determined  to  celebrate  it  by  a  berrying 
party  to  which  a  dozen  children  of  the  neighbor- 
hood were  invited.  Fritz,  Alvilda's  fourteen-year- 
old  brother,  whom  she  greatly  admired,  undertook 
the  duty  of  sending  out  the  invitations ;  and  he  con- 

20  suited  his  own  fancy  in  inviting  those  whom  he 
liked  and  leaving  out  those  whom  he  did  not.  It 
was  found,  when  all  the  children  gathered  in  front 
of  the  parsonage  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, that  it  was  indeed  Fritz's  party  rather  than 

26  Alvilda's.  But  Alvilda,  who  always  thought  that 
whatever  Fritz  did  was  well  done,  was  perfectly 


BOOK  FOUR  145 

content.  She  liked  big  boys,  she  said,  because  they 
were  not  half  the  trouble  that  little  girls  were. 
First,  there  was  her  brother  Charles,  twelve  years 
old,  who  was  the  proud  possessor  of  a  drum  which 
had  been  presented  to  him  at  Christmas;  the  5 
judge's  Albert,  thirteen  years  old,  who  was,  to  be 
sure,  a  great  tease,  and  inclined  to  run  off  with 
Fritz  on  all  sorts  of  mysterious  errands ;  and  there 
was  the  lawyer's  Frederick,  who  never  spoke  to 
girls  in  public  for  fear  of  being  thought  frivolous,  lo 
Of  girls  there  were  but  two :  Sophy,  Alvilda's  fif- 
teen-year-old sister,  who  was  almost  grown  up,  and 
carried  a  novel  in  her  pocket  which  she  read  at  odd 
moments  in  the  garden,  in  the  kitchen,  and,  most 
of  all,  in  the  woods ;  and  Albert's  sister,  Ingeborg,  i5 
who  had  so  many  delightful  secrets  which  she 
would  never  share  with  anybody  except  her  bosom 
friend,  Sophy. 

Fritz,  who  had  provided  himself  with  a  tin  trum- 
pet, marshaled  his  forces  in  the  yard  and,  having  20 
arranged  them  in  rank  and  file  like  soldiers,  gave 
the  command,  "  Forward,  march !  " 

The  girls  followed  as  best  they  could,  the  two 
elder  ones  leading  Alvilda  by  the  hand  between 
them.    The  father,  who  was  almost  afraid  to  send  25 
her  into  the  woods,  fearing  that  she  might  become 


146  THE  HILL  READERS 

overtired,  charged  them  not  to  leave  her  for  a 
moment,  and  to  see  that  she  had  an  opportunity  to 
rest  whenever  she  wished, —  all  of  which.  Sophy  and 
Ingeborg  promised. 

6  The  weather  was  glorious ;  the  sunshine  was 
just  warm  enough  to  be  agreeable,  and  the  light 
clouds  which  sailed  over  the  sky  seemed  to  be 
having  a  happy  time  of  it.  The  woods  on  the 
slope  of  the  mountain  were  filled  with  the  fra- 

10  grance  of  birch  and  pine  and  lilies  of  the  valley; 
and  the  brooks,  swollen  by  the  melting  ice  of  the 
glaciers,  danced  gayly  down  through  the  ravines 
with  a  gurgling  rush  which  fell  pleasantly  upon 
the  ear. 

15  When  the  boys  left  the  highway  for  the  moun- 
tain plains  they  broke  ranks,  and  each  scrambled 
up  the  rocks  as  best  he  could.  It  was  in  vain  that 
Fritz  blew  his  trumpet  and  Charles  beat  his  drum. 
To  climb   the   great   moss-grown   rocks  was   too 

20  inviting ;  and  to  stand  on  the  top  of  them  and 
shout  against  the  mountain  wall,  which  gave  such 
a  splendid  echo,  was  a  delight  wliich  made  the 
heart  leap  in  one's  bosom.  Fritz  himself  was  not 
proof  against  such  temptations,  and,  finding  his 

25  commands  disobeyed,  joined  with  a  will  in  the 
sports  of  the  rest. 


BOOK  FOUR 


147 


When  they  had  climbed  for  an  hour  Alvilda 
began  to  grow  tired;  and  Fritz,  seeing  there  was 
no  likelihood  of  reaching  the  enchanted  territory 
he  had  in  view  without  carrying  her,  undertook, 
with  the  aid  of  his  comrades,  to  make  a  litter 
of  soft  pine  branches.  The  boys  then  took  turns 
carrying  Alvilda,  addressing  her  all  the  while  as 
the  Princess  Kunigunde.    Alvilda  laughed  heartily 


at  their  fanciful  speeches,  and  her  clear  voice  rang 
through  the  woods.    But,  although  she  found  it  lo 
ridiculous,  Alvilda  enjoyed  immensely  being  a  prin- 
cess and  having  her  devoted  knights  kiss  her  hand 
and  bend  their  knees  when  they  spoke  to  her. 

It  was  about   eleven   o'clock  when   the   party 
reached   Fritz's   berrying   ground,  which   he   had  i5 


148  THE  HILL   READERS 

discovered  a  few  days  ago,  when  out  in  the  woods 
with  Albert  in  search  of  adventures.  It  was  just 
then  toward  the  end  of  the  strawberry  season  and 
the  beginning  of  the  blueberry  season.    The  sweet 

5  wild  strawberry  betrayed  itself  by  its  fragrance 
under  the  heather,  and  when  the  boys  found  an 
open  patch  about  the  roots  of  a  tree,  where  the 
berries  grew  in  big  bunches,  they  shouted  aloud 
and  danced  aur  Indian  war  dance  from  excess  of 

10  joy,  before  beginning  to  fill  their  mouths,  their 
pails,  and  their  baskets.  Fritz  and  Albert,  who 
were  the  champion  pickers,  had  soon  filled  the 
tin  pails  they  had  brought  with  them,  and  set  to 
work  busily  to  make  baskets  of  birch  bark  where- 

15  with  to  carry  off  what  was  left.  There  were  the 
great  blueberry  fields  still  to  be  ravaged ;  and  it 
seemed  a  pity  not  to  pick  some  of  the  fragrant 
sweetbrier  and  lilies  of  the  valley  that  grew  so 
abundantly  among  the  birches  and  alders.    Sophy 

20  and  Ingeborg  were  very  happy  over  the  nodding 
clusters  of  pretty,  bell-shaped  flowers  which,  in 
Norway,  grow  wild  in  the  woods ;  and  they  picked 
their  aprons  full  again  and  again,  emptying  them 
into  one  of  Fritz's  birch-bark  baskets.    Of  maiden- 

26  hair,  too,  and  the  delicate  little  woodstars  there 
was  no  lack ;  and  in  the  open  glades  they  found 


BOOK  FOUR  149 

some  belated  violets  with  a  shy  little  ghost  of  a 
perfume  that  stole  into  one's  nostrils  as  a  kind 
thought  steals  into  the  heart. 

Fritz  and  his  manly  comrades  protested,  of 
course,  against  this  "  tomfoolery  'J  with  the  flowers;  5 
but  as  some  indulgence  must  be  granted  to  the 
weaknesses  of  girls,  they  consented  to  assist  in  the 
task.  A  big  heap  of  variegated  color  — pink,  white, 
blue,  and  green  —  was  piled  up  under  a  large,  wide- 
spreading  pine,  where  Alvilda  sat,  like  ^  a  fairy  lo 
queen,  glorying  in  her  flower  treasures.  It  was 
then  that  Fritz  lost  his  patience  and  demanded  to 
know  whether  it  was  not  time  to  stop  this  non- 
sense and  go  in  quest  of  something  worth  wearying 
one's  limbs  for.  As  he  had  brought  fishing  tackle  i5 
and  bait,  he  would  propose  a  little  fishing  expedition 
on  a  tarn  close  by,  and  if  the  girls  did  n't  care  to 
accompany  him,  he  would  go  alone  with  his  trusty 
friends,  Robin  Hood  and  the  Gray  Friar,  and  catch 
enough  to  provide  luncheon  for  the  whole  army.       20 

This  proposition  was  too  tempting  to  be  resisted, 
and  presently  all  the  boys  scampered  away  through 
the  underbrush,  leaving  the  three  girls  under  the 
pine  tree.  Sophy  spread  a  shawl  upon  the  ground 
for  Alvilda  to  lie  down  upon ;  and  herself  drew  a  25 
favorite  novel  from  her  pocket,  which  she  discussed 


150  THE  HILL  READERS 

in  whispers  with  Ingeborg.  There  were,  indeed, 
the  most  delightful  things  in  this*  book, — dreadful, 
black-hearted  villains,  with  black  mustaches,  who 
prowled  about   in   all   sorts  of   disguises.    Sophy 

5  soon  lost  all  thought  of  her  sister,  and  Alvilda, 
finding  herself  neglected,  pouted  a  little  and  dozed 
away  into  a  sweet  sleep. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  boys  were  having  great 
fun  down  on  the  tarn,  and,  being  seized  with  a 

10  ravenous  appetite,  as  their  usual  hour  for  luncheon 
passed,  they  resolved  to  have  a  little  feast  all  by 
themselves  before  returning  to  the  girls.  They  had 
caught  a  dozen  fine  trout  and  no  end  of  perch,  and 
their  mouths  watered  to  test  the  flavor  of  the  former 

15  on  the  spot.  They  accordingly  built  a  stove  of  flat 
stones,  made  a  fire  in  it,  split  the  fish,  and  broiled 
them  over  the  flame. 

The  trout  in  particular  proved  to  have  a  superb 
flavor,  and  Fritz,  as  a  generous  and  magnanimous 

20  freebooter,  was  dispensing  the  hospitality  of  the 
woods  with  a  royal  hand.  He  forgot  all  about  his 
dear  little  sister  in  whose  honor  he  was  feasting, 
and  he  forgot,  too,  that  he  had  promised  to  return 
in  half  an  hour  with  his  catch  of  fish.    Sophy  and 

25  Ingeborg,  having  exhausted  the  delights  of  the 
novel,  began  to  grow  hungry ;  and  when  an  hour 


BOOK  FOUE  151 

had  passed  they  became  impatient,  and  at  last 
angry.  They  could  hear  Fritz's  shout  of  laughter 
in  the  distance,  and  they  began  to  suspect  that  the 
boys  were  lunching  without  them.  Now  and  then 
the  blare  of  a  trumpet  was  heard,  and  the  rumble  5 
of  Charles's  drum. " 

^'I  really  think,  Ingeborg,"  said  Sophy,  "that 
those  wretched  boys  have  forgotten  about  us." 

"  I  never  could  understand  why  boys  were  cre- 
ated," observed  Ingeborg.  lo 

"  Well,  anyway,  I  am  hungry,"  cried  SOphy. 

"  And  I  am  ravenous ;  that  is,  I  am  not  averse 
to  something  to  eat,"  echoed  her  friend. 

"  Suppose  we  go  to  find  those  graceless  scamps," 
suggested  Sophy.  is 

"  Very  well ;  but  what  shall  we  do  with  Alvilda  ?  " 

Alvilda  —  to  be  sure,  what  were  they  to  do  with 
her  ?  Sophy  felt  a  little  pang  of  guilt  as  her  eyes  fell 
upon  the  sweet,  chubby  face  of  her  sleeping  sister. 

"  She  is  sleeping  so  soundly,  it  would  be  a  pity  20 
to  wake  her  up,"  she  remarked,  doubtfully.    "  What 
do  you  say  ?  " 

"Why,  nothing  can  happen  to  her  here,"  said 
Ingeborg ;  "  we  shall  only  be  gone  fifteen  minutes 
at  the  most,  you  know,  and  then  we  shall  be  back  25 
with  the  boys." 


152  THE  HILL  READERS 

"  But  suppose  there  were  bears  about  here ;  then 
it  might  be  dangerous  to  leave  her." 

"Yes,  and  suppose  there  were  lions  —  and  croco- 
diles/' laughed  Ingeborg. 
5       This  sally   disposed  of   Sophy's   scruples;   and 
having  thrown  a  jacket  over  Alvilda's  feet  and 
kissed  her  on  the  cheek,  she  flung  one  arm  about 

•  her  friend's  waist  and  wandered  away  with  her  in 
the  direction  from  which  the  boys'  laughter  was 

10  heard.  It  was  not  difficult  to  find  those  young 
gentlemen,  for  they  were  engaged  in  a  lively 
wrangle  as  to  which  was  the  rightful  owner  of  the 
fish  which  they  could  not  devour.  Fritz  maintained 
that  he,  as  the  chieftain,  had  a  just  claim  to  the 

15  proceeds  of  the  labor  of  his  vassals  and  slaves,  and 
the  vassals  and  slaves  loudly  rebelled  and  declared 
that  they  would  never  submit  to  such  injustice ; 
whereupon  the  chieftain  declared  that  he  would 
give  up  his  rights  and  surrender  the  booty  to  be 

20  divided  by  lot  among  his  men  at  arms.  It  was  at 
this  interesting  point  that  the  girls  appeared  upon 
the  scene,  and  the  gallant  freebooters  dropped  their 
quarrel  and  undertook,  somewhat  shamefacedly,  to 
wait  upon  their  fair  guests.    And  as  the  fair  guests 

25  had  rather  unfashionable  appetites,  after  their 
long  fast  and  vigorous  exercise,  the  fifteen  minutes 


BOOK  FOUR  153 

became  half  an  hour,  and  the"  half  hour  began  to 
round  itself  out  to  a  whole  hour,  before  their  con- 
sciences smote  them  and  they  thought  of  Alvilda, 
who  was  asleep  under  the  big  pine  tree. 

LITTLE  ALVILDA  — II 

And  now  let  us  see  what  befell  little  Alvilda.    5 
She  slept  quietly  for  about  twenty  minutes  after 
her   sister  left   her;    and   she    would   have    slept 
longer  if   something  very  strange    had  not  hap- 
pened.   She  was  dreaming  that  the  big  mastiff, 
Hector,  at  home  in  the  parsonage,  was  insisting  lo 
upon  kissing  her,  and  she,  was  struggling  to  get 
away  from  his  cold,  wet  nose,  but  could  not.    A 
strange,  wild  odor  was  filling  the  air,  and  it  pene- 
trated into  Alvilda' s  dream  and   made   her  toss 
uneasily.    There  was  Hector  again,  with  his  cold,  15 
wet  nose,  and  he  was  blowing  his  warm  breath 
into  her  face.    She  tried  to  scold  him,  but  not  a 
sound  could  she  produce.    In  her  sleep  she  struck 
out  with  her  hand  and  hit  something  warm  and 
furry.    But  here  the  filmy  webs  of  slumber  were  20 
broken ;  she  opened  her  eyes  wide  and  raised  her- 
self on  her  elbow.    There   stood  Hector,  indeed, 
and  stared  straight  into  her  eyes.    But  how  big  he 


154  THE  HILL   READEES 

was !  And  how  his-  ears  had  shrunk  and  his  fur 
grown!  Alvilda  rubbed  her  eyes  to  make  sure 
that  she  was  awake.  She  stared  once  more  with  a 
dim  fear,  and  saw  —  yes,  there  could  be  no  doubt 

5  of  it  —  she  saw  that  it  was  not  Hector.  It  was  a 
big  brown  beast,  which  might  take  it  into  its  head 
to  hurt  her.  It  was  —  yes,  now  she  was  quite  sure 
of  it  —  it  was  a  big  brown  bear ! 

The  little  girl's   first  impulse  was  to  cry  out 

10  for  help.  But  it  was  so  strangely  still  about  her. 
Where  were  her  brothers  and  sister,  —  Fritz  and 
his  freebooters,  Sophy  and  her  friend  Ingeborg  ?  It 
could  not  be  possible  that  they  had  left  her  alone 
here  in  the  forest.    She  threw  frightened  glances 

15  about  her ;  but  wherever  she  looked  she  saw  noth- 
ing but  the  long,  solemn  rows  of  brown  pine  trunks. 
And  there,  right  in  front  of  her,  stood  the  bear,  star- 
ing at  her  with  his  small  black  eyes.  It  seemed  to 
her,  even  in  her  fright,  that  she  must  try  to  make 

20  friends  with  this  bear,  in  which  case,  perhaps,  he 
might  consent  not  to  eat  her.  She  knew  from  her 
fairy  tales  that  there  were  good  bears  and  bad  bears, 
and  she  hoped  that  her  new  acquaintance  might 
prove  to  belong  to  the  order  of  good  bears.    So, 

25  with  a  quaking  heart  and  a  voice  that  shook,  she 
arose,  and,  putting  her  hand  on  the  bear's  neck, 


BOOK  FOUR  155 

exclaimed  with  coaxing  friendliness  :  "  I  know  you 
very  well,  Mr.  Bear,  but  you  don't  know  me.  I 
know  you  from  my  picture  book.  You  are  the 
good  bear  who  carried  the  Princess  on  your  back, 
away  from  the  Troll's  castle."  5 

The  bear  seemed  not  displeased  to  know  that  he 
had  made  so  good  an  impression,  though  he  wished 
to  make  it  plain  that  he  couldn't  be  bamboozled 
by  flattery.  For  he  shook  his  great  shaggy  head 
and  gave  a  low,  good-natured  grumble.  And  just  lo 
at  that  moment  he  caught  sight  of  the  hig  basket 
of  strawberries  that  stood  under  the  tree ;  and, 
turning  toward  it,  he  slowly  hfted  his  right  fore 
paw^  and,  putting  it  straight  into  the  basket,  delib- 
erately upset  it.  15 

"•Why,  Bear,  what  have  you  been  doing?"  cried 
Alvilda,  half  forgetting  her  fear.  "Why,  don't 
you  know  those  are  Fritz's  berries  ?  And  he  will 
be  so  angry  when  he  gets  back !  For  Fritz,  you 
know,  is  quite  high-tempered.  Now,  if  you  '11  eat  20 
my  berries,  you  may  have  them,  and  welcome ; 
but,  dear  Mr.  Bear,  do  let  Fritz's  alone." 

You  may  be  sure  that  the  bear  was  not  greatly 
moved  by  this  speech.    He  calmly  went  on  eating 
Fritz's  berries,  which  were  scattered  all  over  the  2s 
ground,  and  grumbled  now  and  then  contentedly, 


156  THE  HILL  READERS 

as  if  to  say  that  he  found  the  flavor  of  the  ber- 
ries excellent.  He  paid  no  attention  whatever  to 
Alvilda's  own  little  basket,  which  she  had  placed 
invitingly   before   his   nose ;    but,   when   he   had 

5  finished  Fritz's  berries,  he  selected  the  next  big- 
gest basket  and  upset  that  in  the  same  deliberate 
fashion  in  which  he  had  overturned  the  first  one. 
"Why,  now,  Mr.  Bear,  I  don't  think  you  are 
good  at  all,"  said  Alvilda,  when  she  saw  her  friend 

10  make  havoc  among  the  berry  baskets.  "  Don't 
you  know  you  '11  get  a  stomach  ache  if  you  eat  so 
.many  berries  ?  and  then  you  '11  have  to  go  to 
bed  in  your  den  and  take  medicine." 

But,  seeing  that  the  bear  was  not  moved  by  her 

15  words,  Alvilda  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
tried  to  drive  him  away.  She  found,  however,  that 
she  was  no  match  for  Bruin  in  strength,  and  there- 
fore sorrowfully  made  up  her  mind  to  let  him  do 
as  he  pleased.    "  Now,  Bear,"  she  said,  seating  her- 

20  self  again  under  the  tree,  and  quite  forgetting  that 
she  had  been  frightened,  "if  you'll  behave  your- 
self, I  am  going  to  make  you  a  pretty  wreath  of 
flowers.  Then,  Mr.  Bear,  won't  you  look  hand- 
some when  you  get  home  to  your  family !  " 

25  And,  delighted  at  this  idea  of  the  bear  return- 
ing   to   his   astonished   family   decorated  with  a 


BOOK  FOUR  157 

wreath,  she  clapped  her  hands,  emptied  a  basket 
of  wild  flowers  in  her  lap,  and  began  to  tie  them 
together.  Lilies  of  the  valley,  she  feared.  Bruin 
would  scarcely  care  for;  but  brier  roses,  violets, 
and  columbines,  she  thought,  would  not  be  beyond  s 
his  taste ;  and  adding  here  and  there  a  sprig  of 
whortleberries  and  of  flowery  heather  to  give 
solidity  to  her  wreath,  she  tied  it  securely  about 
the  bear's  neck  and  laughed  aloud  with  joy  at  his 
appearance.  Bruin  had  clearly  a  notion  that  this  lo 
was  a  kindly  act,  for  he  suddenly  rose -up  on  his 
hind  legs  and,  with  a  pleased  grumble,  made  an 
attempt  to  look  at  himself. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Bruin !  "  cried  Alvilda  ;  "  you  look 
perfectly   lovely.    Your   family  won't   know  you  is 
when  they  see  you  again." 

The  bear  lifted  up  his  head,  and  as  his  eyes  met 
Alvilda's  there  was  a  gleam  in  them  of  mild 
astonishment,  and,  as  the  little  girl  imagined,  of 
thanks.  She  laughed  and  talked  on  merrily  for  20 
some  minutes,  while  her  friend  sat  down  on  his 
hind  legs  and  continued  to  gaze  at  her  with  the 
same  stupid  wonder.  But  then,  suddenly,  while 
Alvilda  was  making  another  wreath  for  Bruin  to 
take  home  to  his  wife,  the  blare  of  a  trumpet  25 
reechoed  through  the  woods  and  laughing  voices 


158  THE  HILL  READERS 

were  heard  approaching.  The  bear  pricked  up  his 
ears,  sniffed  the  air  suspiciously,  and  waddled 
slowly  away  between  the  tree  trunks. 

"Why,   no.  Bear!"    Alvilda   cried   after   him; 

5  "  why  don't  you  stay  and  meet  Fritz  and  Sophy 
and  the  judge's  Albert?" 

But  the  bear,  instead  of  returning,  broke  into  a 
gentle  trot,  and  she  heard  the  dry  branches  crack 
beneath  his  tread   as  he  vanished  in  the  under- 

10  brush.  And  just  as  she  lost  the  last  glimpse  of 
him,  Fritz  and  Sophy  and  the  whole  party  of 
children  came  rushing  up  to  her,  excusing  them- 
selves for  their  absence,  calling  her  all  manner  of 
pet  names,  and  saying  that  they  had  hoped  she 

15  had  not  been  frightened.  "  Oh,  no,  not  at  all," 
answered  Alvilda ;  "'  I  have  had  a  nice  bear  here, 
who  has  kept  me  company.  But  I  am  sorry  he 
has  eaten  up  all  your  berries." 

The  children  thought,  at  first,  that  she  must  be 

20  joking;  but  seeing  all  the  baskets  upset,  and 
smelling  the  strong,  wild  odor  that  was  yet  linger- 
ing in  the  air,  they  turned  pale  and  stood  gazing 
at  each  other  in  speechless  terror.  But  Sophy  burst 
into  tears,  hugged  her  little  sister  to  her  bosom,  and 

25  cried :  "  Can  you  ever  forgive  me,  Alvilda  ?  It  is 
all  my  fault.    I  promised  not  to  leave  you." 


159 


160  THE  HILL  READERS 

It  was  of  no  use  that  Alvilda  kept  repeating: 
"But,  Sophy,  he  was  not  a  bad  bear.  He  was  a 
nice  bear,  and  he  did  n't  hurt  me  at  all." 

There  could   be  no  more  berrying  after  that. 

5  The  girls  were  in  haste  to  be  gone,  and  the  valiant 
freebooters  had  no  desire  to  detain  them.  They 
picked  up  their  belongings  as  fast  as  they  could, 
and  hurried  down  through  the  forest,  each  taking 
his  turn,  as  before,  in  carrying  Alvilda.    But  they 

10  were  neither  knights  nor  princesses  any  more.  They 
were  only  frightened  boys  and  girls. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  parsonage  about  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  they  were  too  tired,  breath- 
less, and  frightened  to  care  much  what  became  of 

15  them.  Sophy  took  upon  herself  to  tell  her  father 
what  had  happened.  She  was  prepared  for  the 
worst,  and  in  her  sorrow  would  have  accepted 
cheerfully  any  punishment.  But  imagine  her  as- 
tonishment when  her  father  uttered  no  word  of 

20  reproach,  but  folded  Alvilda  in  his  arms  and 
thanked  God  that  he  had  his  little  girl  once  more, 
safe  and  sound. 

quest :  search.  — tarn :  a  mountain  lake  or  pool.  —  freebooter : 
robber sally :  a  witty  saying.  —  bamboozled  :  cheated. 


BOOK  FOUR  161 

OLIVER  CROMWELL  —  I 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne  (1804-1864),  one  of  the  greatest 
prose  writers  of  America,  was  born  in  Salem,  Massachusetts. 
His  father,  who  was  the  last  of  a  long  line  of  sea  captains,  died 
when  his  son  was  only  four  years  old.  The  childhood  of  Haw- 
thorne was  sad  and  lonely.  "  We  do  not  even  live  at  our  house,"  5 
was  the  pitiful  remark  of  the  child.  For  weeks  at  a  time  his 
mother  and  sisters  shut  themselves  up  in  their  rooms,  and  little 
Nathaniel  was  left  to  the  companionship  of  books  and  dreams. 
Often  in  winter  he  escaped  from  the  dreariness  of  his  room  to 
skate  for  hours  on  the  near-by  lake.  In  summer,  when  wearied  10 
by  long  hours  of  reading,  he  would  boat  and  fish''alone  or  lie 
under  the  trees  dreaming. 

In  1825  he  was  graduated  from  Bowdoin  C6llege  in  Maine, 
in  the  class  with  the  poet  Longfellow.  After  graduation  he  went 
back  with  his  mother  and  sisters  to  Salem,  and  for  thirteen  15 
years  lived  practically  without  a  companion  in  the  world.  "For 
months  together,"  he  says,  "I  scarce  held  human  intercourse 
outside  of  my  own  family,  seldom  going  out  except  at  twilight 
or  only  taking  the  nearest  way  to  the  most  convenient  solitude." 

In  these  quiet  years,  when  he  burned  almost  every  line  that  he  20 
wrote,  he  was  learning  how  to  write  and  how  to  think.    These 
years  proved  the  most  useful  of  his  life,  as  far  as  mastery  of  art 
went,  for  in  them  he  learned  to  be  a  skilled  workman. 

His  marriage  was  a  happy  one,  and  in  1850,  when  his  Scarlet 
Letter  was  published,  he  stepped  into  the  forefront  of  American  25 
men  of  letters.    His  perfect  style  —  graceful,  clear,  simple,  strong 
—  and  his  power  of  working  up  material  placed  him  in  the  first 
rank  of  literary  artists. 

His  Twice-Told  Tales,  Wonder  Book,  Tanglewood  Tales,  Grand- 
father's Chair  and  The  Snow  Image  are  especially  interesting  to  30 
the  young. 


162  THE  HILL  READERS 

Not  long  after  King  James  the  First  took  the 
place  of  Queen  Elizabeth  on  the  throne  of  Eng- 
land, there  lived  an  English  knight  at  a  place 
called  Hinchinbrooke.    His  name  was  Sir  Oliver 

6  Cromwell.  The  old  house  in  which  he  dwelt  had 
been  occupied  by  his  ancestors  before  him  for  a  good 
many  years.  In  it  there  was  a  great  hall  hung 
round  with  coats  of  arms  and  helmets,  cuirasses 
and   swords,  which  his   forefathers   had  used  in 

10  battle,  and  with  horns  of  deer  and  tails  of  foxes 
which  they  or  Sir  Oliver  himself  had  killed  in 
the  chase. 

This  Sir  Oliver  Cromwell  had  a  nephew,  who 
had  been  called  Oliver,  after  himself,  but  who  was 

15  generally  known  in  the  family  by  the  name  of  Little 
Noll.  His  father  was  a  younger  brother  of  Sir 
Oliver.  The  child  was  often  sent  to  visit  his  uncle, 
who  probably  found  him  a  troublesome  little  fellow 
to  take  care  of.    He  was  forever  in  mischief,  and 

20  always  running  into  some  danger  or  other,  from 
which  he  seemed  to  escape  only  by  miracle. 

Even  while  he  was  an  infant  in  the  cradle  a 
strange  accident  had  befallen  him.  A  huge  ape, 
which  was  kept  in  the  family,  snatched  up  little 

25  Noll  in  his  fore  paws  and  clambered  with  him  to 
the  roof  of  the  house.    There  this  ugly  beast  sat 


BOOK  FOUR  163 

grinning  at  the  affrighted  spectators,  as  if  it  had 
done  the  most  praiseworthy  thing  imaginable. 
Fortunately,  however,  he  brought  the  child  safe 
down  again;  and  the  event  was  afterwards  con- 
sidered an  omen  that  Noll  would  reach  a  very  s 
elevated  station  in  the  world. 

One  morning,  when  Noll  was  five  or  six  years 
old,  a  royal  messenger  arrived  at  Hinchinbrooke 
with  tidings  that  King  James  was  coming  to  dine 
with  Sir  Oliver  Cromwell.    This  was  a  high  honor,  lo 
to  be  sure,  but  a  very  great  trouble;  for  all  the 
lords  and  ladies,  knights,  squires,  guards,  and  yeo- 
men, who  waited  on  the  king,  were  to  be  feasted 
as  well  as  himself.    However,  Sir  Oliver  expressed 
much  thankfulness  for  the  king's  intended  visit,  is 
and  ordered  his  butler  and  cook  to  make  the  best 
preparations  in  their  power.    So  a  great  fire  was 
kindled  in  the  kitchen;   and  the  neighbors  knew 
by  the  smoke  which  poured  out  of  the  chimney 
that  boiling,  baking,  stewing,  roasting,  and  frying  20 
were  going  on  merrily. 

By  and  by  the  sound  of  trumpets  was  heard 
approaching  nearer  and  nearer ;  a  heavy,  old-fash- 
ioned coach  surrounded  by  guards  on  horseback 
drove  up  to  the  house.    Sir  Oliver,  with  his  hat  in  25 
his  hand,  stood  at  the  gate  to  receive  the  king. 


164 


THE  HILL  READERS 


His  Majesty  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  green,  not 
very  new ;  he  had  a  feather  in  his  hat  and  a  triple 
ruff  round  his  neck,  and  over  his  shoulder  was 


slung  a  hunting  horn  instead  of  a  sword.  Alto- 
5  gether  he  had  not  the  most  dignified  aspect  in  the 
world ;  but  the  spectators  gazed  at  him  as  if  there 
was  something  superhuman  and  divine  in  his  per- 
son. They  even  shaded  their  eyes  with  their 
hands,  as  if  they  were  dazzled  by  the  glory  of  his 
10  countenance. 


BOOK  FOUR  165 

"How  are  ye,  man?"  cried  King  James,  speak- 
ing in  a  Scotch  accent ;  for  Scotland  was  his  native 
country.  "  By  my  crown,  Sir  Oliver,  but  I  am 
glad  to  see  ye!  " 

The  good  knight  thanked  the  king,  at  the  same  5 
time  kneeling  down  while  his  Majesty  alighted. 
When  King  James  stood  on  the  ground  he  directed 
Sir  Oliver's  attention  to  a  little  boy  who  had  come 
with  him  in  his  coach.  He  was  six  or  seven  years 
old,  and  wore  a  hat  and  feather,  and  was  more  10 
richly  dressed  than  the  king  himself.  Though  by 
no  means  an  ill-looking  child,  he  seemed  shy,  or 
even  sulky;  and  his  cheeks  were  rather  pale,  as 
if  he  had  been  kept  moping  within  doors  instead 
of  being  sent  out  to  play  in  the  sun  and  wind.  15 

"  I  have  brought  my  son  Charlie  to  see  ye,"  said 
the  king.  "  I  hope.  Sir  Oliver,  ye  have  a  son  of 
your  own  to  be  his  playmate." 

Sir  Oliver  Cromwell  made  a  reverential  bow  to 
the  little  prince,  whom  one  of  the  attendants  had  20 
now  taken  out  of  the  coach.    It  was  wonderful  to 
see  how  all  the  spectators,  even  the  aged  men  with     < 
their  gray  beards,  humbled  themselves  before  this 
child.    They  bent   their   bodies   till   their  beards 
almost  swept  the  dust.    They  looked  as  if  they  25 
were  ready  to  kneel  down  and  worship  him. 


166  THE  HILL  READERS 

The  poor  little  prince !  From  his  earliest  in- 
fancy not  a  soul  had  dared  to  contradict  him ; 
everybody  around  him  had  acted  as  if  he  were  a 
superior  being,  so  that,  of  course,  he  naturally  sup- 

5  posed  that  the  whole  kingdom  of  Great  Britain 
and  all  its  inhabitants  had  been  created  solely  for 
his  benefit  and  amusement.  This  was  a  sad  mis- 
take ;  and  it  cost  him  dear  enough  after  he  had 
ascended  his  father's  throne. 

10  "  What  a  noble  little  prince  he  is  !  "  exclaimed 
Sir  Oliver,  lifting  his  hands  in  admiration.  "  No, 
please  your  Majesty,  I  have  no  son  to  be  the 
playmate  of  his  Royal  Highness;  but  there  is  a 
nephew  of  mine  somewhere  about  the  house.    He 

15  is  near  the  prince's  age,  and  will  be  but  too  happy 
to  wait  upon  his  Royal  Highness." 

"  Send  for  him,  man !  send  for  him ! "  said 
the  king. 

But,  as  it  happened,  there  was  no  need  of  send- 

20  ing  for  Master  Noll.  While  King  James  was 
speaking,  a  rugged,  bold-faced,  sturdy  little  urchin 
thrust  himself  through  the  throng  of  courtiers  and 
attendants  and  greeted  the  prince  with  a  broad 
stare.    His  doublet  and  hose  (which  had  been  put 

25  on  new  and  clean  in  honor  of  the  king's  visit)  were 
already  soiled  and  torn  with  the  rough  play  in 


BOOK  FOUR  167 

which  he  had  spent  the  morning.  He  looked  no 
more  abashed  than  if  Kmg  James  were  his  uncle 
and  the  prince  one  of  his  customary  playfellows. 
This  was  little  Noll  himself. 

^^Here,  please  your  Majesty,   is  my  nephew,"    5 
said    Sir    Oliver,    somewhat    ashamed    of    Noll's 
appearance  and   demeanor.    "  Oliver,  make  your 
obeisance  to  the  king's  Majesty." 

The  boy  made  a  pretty  respectful  obeisance  to 
the  king;  for  in  those  days  children  were  taught  lo 
to  pay  reverence  to  their  elders.  King  James,  who 
prided  himself  greatly  on  his  scholarship,  asked 
Noll  a  few  questions  in  the  Latin  grammar,  and 
then  introduced  him  to  his  son.  The  little  prince, 
in  a  very  grave  and  dignified  manner,  extended  15 
his  hand,  not  for  Noll  to  shake,  but  that  he  might 
kneel  down  and  kiss  it. 

'^Nephew,"  said  Sir  Oliver,  "pay  your  duty  to 
the  prince." 

"I  owe  him  no  duty,"  cried  Noll,  thrusting  aside  20 
the  prince's  hand  with  a  rude  laugh.    "  Why  should 
I  kiss  that  boy's  hand  ?  " 

All  the  courtiers  were  amazed  and  confounded, 
and    Sir   Oliver   the   most   of  all.    But  the  king 
laughed   heartily,   saying   that  little   Noll   had  a  25 
stubborn  English  spirit,  and  that  it  was  well  for 


168  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

his  son  to  learn  betimes  what  sort  of  a  people  he 
was  to  rule  over. 

So  King  James  and  his  train  entered  the  house ; 
and  the  prince,  with  Noll  and  some  other  children, 

5  was  sent  to  play  in  a  separate  room  while  his 
Majesty  was  at  dinner.  The  young  people  soon 
became  acquainted ;  for  boys,  whether  the  sons  of 
monarchs  or  of  peasants,  all  like  play,  and  are 
pleased  with  one  another's  society.    What  games 

10  they  diverted  themselves  with  I  cannot  tell.  Per- 
haps they  played  at  ball,  perhaps  at  blindman's 
buff,  perhaps  at  leapfrog,  perhaps  at  prison  bars. 
Such  games  have  been  in  use  for  hundreds  of  years, 
and  princes  as  well  as  poor  children  have  spent 

15  some  of  their  happiest  hours  in  playing  at  them. 

cuirass  :  armor  to  cover  the  body  from  the  neck  to  the  waist.  — 
omen  :  sign.  —  doublet :  a  close-fitting  coat.  —  abashed  :  ashamed. 
—  demeanor :  conduct.  —  obeisance :  a  respectful  bow.  —  betimes : 
early. 

OLIVER  CROMWELL  — II 

Meanwhile  King  James  and  his  nobles  were 
feasting  with  Sir  Oliver  in  the  great  hall.  The 
king  sat  in  a  gilded  chair,  under  a  canopy,  at  the 
head  of  a  long  table.  Whenever  any  of  the  com- 
20  pany  addressed  him,  it  was  with  the  deepest  rever- 
ence.   If  the  attendants  offered  him  wine  or  the 


BOOK  FOUR  169 

various  delicacies  of  the  festival,  it  was  upon  their 
bended  knees.  You  would  have  thought,  by  these 
tokens  of  worship,  that  the  monarch  was  a  super- 
natural being;  only  he  seemed  to  have  quite  as 
much  need  of  these  vulgar  matters  —  food  and  5 
drink  —  as  any  other  person  at  the  table.  But 
fate  had  ordained  that  good  King  James  should 
not  finish  his  dinner  in  peace. 

All  of  a  sudden  there  arose  a  terrible  uproar  in 
the  room  where  the  children  were  at  play.  Angry  10 
shouts  and  shrill  cries  of  alarm  were  -mixed  up 
together;  while  the  voices  of  elder  persons  were 
likewise  heard,  trying  to  restore  order  among  the 
children.  The  king  and  everybody  else  at  the  table 
looked  aghast ;  for  perhaps  the  tumult  made  them  15 
think  that  a  general  rebellion  had  broken  out. 

"  Mercy  on  us  !  "   muttered  Sir  Oliver ;   "  that 
graceless  nephew  of  mine  is  in  mischief." 

Getting  up  from  the  table,  he  ran  to  see  what 
was  the  matter,  followed  by  many  of  the  guests,  20 
and  the  king  among  them.    They  all  crowded  to 
the  door  of  the  play  room. 

On  looking  in  they  beheld  little  Prince  Charles, 
with  his  rich  dress  all  torn  and  covered  with  the 
dust  of  the  floor.     His  royal  blood  was  streaming  25 
from  his  nose  in  great  abundance.     He  gazed  at 


170  THE  HILL  READERS 

Noll  with  a  mixture  of  rage  and  affright,  and  at 
the  same  time  a  puzzled  expression,  as  if  he  could 
not  understand  how  any  mortal  boy  should  dare 
to  give  him  a  beating.    As  for  Noll,  there  stood 

5  his  sturdy  little  figure,  bold  as  a  lion,  looking'  as 
if  he  were  ready  to  fight  not  only  the  prince  but 
the  king  and  kingdom  too. 

"  You  little  villain  !  "  cried  his  uncle.    "  What 
have  you  been  about  ?    Down  on  your  knees,  this 

10  instant,  and  ask  the  prince's  pardon." 

"  He  struck  me  first,"  grumbled  the  valiant  little 
Noll ;  "  and  I  've  only  given  him  his  due." 

Sir  Oliver  and  the  guests  lifted  up  their  hands 
in  astonishment  and  horror.  No  punishment  seemed 

15  severe  enough  for  this  wicked  little  varlet,  who 
had  dared  to  resent  a  blow  from  the  king's  own 
son.  Some  of  the  courtiers  were  of  opinion  that 
Noll  should  be  sent  to  the  Tower  of  London  and 
brought  to  trial  for  high  treason.    Others,  in  their 

20  zeal  for  the  king's  service,  were  about  to  lay  hands 
on  the  boy  and  chastise  him  in  the  royal  presence. 
But  King  James,  who  sometimes  showed  a  good 
deal  of  sagacity,  ordered  them  to  desist. 

"  Thou  art  a  bold  boy,"  said  he,  looking  fixedly 

26  at  Noll;  "and,  if  thou  live  to  be  a  man,  my  son 
Charlie  would  do  wisely  to  be  friends  with  thee." 


BOOK  FOUR  171 

"  I  never  will !  "  cried  the  little  prince,  stamping 
his  foot. 

"Peace,  Charlie,  peace!"  said  the  king.  Then, 
addressing  Sir  Oliver  and  the  attendants :  "  Harm 
not  the  urchin ;  for  he  has  taught  my  son  a  good  5 
lesson,  if  Heaven  do  but  give  him  grace  to  profit 
by  it.  Hereafter,  should  he  be  tempted  to  tyran- 
nize over  the  stubborn  race  of  Englishmen,  let 
him  remember  little  Noll  Cromwell  and  his  own 
bloody  nose."  lo 

So  the  king  finished  his  dinner  and ' departed ; 
and  for  many  a  long  year  the  childish  quarrel 
between  Prince  Charles  and  Noll  Cromwell  was 
forgotten.  The  prince,  indeed,  might  have  lived 
a  happier  life,  and  have  met  a  more  peaceful  15 
death,  had  he  remembered  that  quarrel  and  the 
moral  which  his  father  drew  from  it. 

When  old  King  James  was  dead,  and  Charles 
sat  upon  his  throne,  he  seemed  to  forget  that  he 
was  but  a  man,  and  that  his  meanest  subjects  20 
were  men  as  well  as  he.  He  wished  to  have  the 
property  and  lives  of  the  people  of  England 
entirely  at  his  own  disposal.  But  the  Puritans, 
and  all  who  loved  liberty,  rose  against  him  and 
beat  him  in  many  battles  and  pulled  him  down  25 
from  his  throne. 


172  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

Throughout  this  war  between  the  kmg  and 
nobles  on  one  side  and  the  people  of  England  on 
the  other  there  was  a  famous  leader,  who  did  more 
toward  the  ruin  of  royal  authority  than  all  the 

5  rest.  The  contest  seemed  like  a  wrestling  match 
between  King  Charles  and  this  strong  man.  And 
the  king  was  overthrown. 

When  the  discrowned  monarch  was  brought  to 
trial  that  warlike  leader  sat  in  the  judgment  hall. 

10  Many  judges  were  present  besides  himself,  but  he 
alone  had  the  power  to  save  King  Charles  or  to 
doom  him  to  the  scaffold.  After  sentence  was  pro- 
nounced this  victorious  general  was  entreated  by 
his  own  children,  on  their  knees,  to  rescue  his 

15  Majesty  from  death. 

"  No  !  "  said  he,  sternly.  ''  Better  that  one  man 
perish  than  that  the  country  should  be  ruined  for 
his  sake.    It  is  resolved  that  he  shall  die  !  " 

When  Charles,  no  longer  a  king,  was  led  to  the 

20  scaffold,  his  great  enemy  stood  at  a  window  of  the 
royal  palace  of  Whitehall.  He  beheld  the  poor 
victim  of  pride,  and  an  evil  education,  and  misused 
power,  as  he  laid  his  head  upon  the  block.  He 
looked  on  with  a  steadfast  gaze  while  a  black- 

25  veiled  executioner  lifted  the  fatal  ax  and  smote 
off  that  anointed  head  at  a  single  blow. 


BOOK  FOUR  173 

^^It  is  a  righteous  deed,"  perhaps  he  said. 
"  Now  Englishmen  may  enjoy  their  rights." 

At  night,  when  the  body  of  Charles  lay  in  a 
gloomy  chamber,  the  general  entered,  lighting  him- 
self with  a  torch.  5 

"  Why  was  it,"  said  Cromwell  to  himself,  or 
might  have  said,  as  he  gazed  at  the  pale  features 
in  the  coffin,  —  "  why  was  it  that  this  great  king 
fell,  and  that  poor  Noll  Cromwell  has  gained  all 
the  power  of  the  realm?"  10 

And,  indeed,  why  was  it  ? 

King  Charles  had  fallen  because,  in  his  manhood 
the  same  as  when  a  child,  he  had  disdained  to  feel 
that  every  human  creature  was  his  brother.  And 
Cromwell  rose  because,  in  spite  of  his  many  faults,  15 
he  mainly  fought  for  the  rights  and  freedom  of 
his  fellow-men ;  and  therefore  the  poor  and  the 
oppressed  all  lent  their  strength  to  him. 


174  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

A  MUSICAL  INSTRUMENT 

Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning 

The  two  Brownings,  Robert  and  his  gifted  wife,  have  left 
immortal  names  in  English  poetry. 

Mrs.  Browning  was  born  in  1806.  Her  childhood  was  spent 
in  "  a  luxurious  home  standing  in  a  park,  among  trees  and  sloping 
5  hills  all  sprinkled  with  sheep."  Her  wealthy  father  surrounded 
her  with  every  comfort,  but  at  the  same  time  looked  sharply 
after  the  education  of  his  dark -eyed,  curly-haired,  and  winsome- 
faced  daughter.  The  child  was  an  invalid,  but  her  sickness  did 
not  interfere  with  her  love  for  study.  "She  read  almost  every 
10  book  worth  the  reading  in  almost  every  language,"  says  Miss 
Mitford,  "  and  gave  herself  heart  and  soul  to  that  poetry  of  which 
she  seemed  born  to  be  the  priestess." 

The  death  of  her  mother  and  her  father's  loss  of  fortune  led 
to  a  removal  to  London,  where  she  lived  until  her  marriage  to 
15  Robert  Browning  in  1846.  After  their  marriage  the  two  poets 
went  to  Italy  to  live,  and  there  Mrs.  Browning  died  in  1861. 

Mrs.  Browning's  poems  always  stand  for  truth  and  right.  Her 
Cry  of  the  Children  voiced  the  protest  of  an  aroused  country 
against  the  practice  of  employing  children  in  mines  and  factories. 
20  Aurora  Leigh,  a  versified  novel,  is  Mrs.  Browning's  most 
ambitious  work,  but  her  fame  will  doubtless  rest  on  her  Sonnets 
from  the  Portuguese. 

Note.  Among  the  Greeks,  Pan  was  the  god  of  flocks,  pas- 
tures, and  forests.  He  was  born  with  horns,  a  goat's  beard,  and 
25  a  goat's  feet.  He  had  a  crooked  nose  and  very  pointed  ears.  His 
voice  was  terrible,  and  he  was  fond  of  roaring  at  shy  and  timid 
people.  He  took  a  nap  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  great  was 
his  fury  if  his  slumbers  were  disturbed. 

Pan  was  fond  of  music,  and,  as  the  following  poem  shows,  was 
30  believed  to  be  the  inventor  of  the  shepherd's  flute. 


BOOK  FOUR 


175 


What  was  he  doing,  the  great  god  Pan, 

Down  in  the  reeds  by  the  river  ? 
Spreading  ruin  and  scattering  ban, 
Splashing  and  paddling  with  hoofs  of  a  goat, 
And  breaking  the  golden  lilies  afloat  5 

Wfth  the  dragon-fly  on  the  river. 


He  tore  out  a  reed,  the  great  god  Pan, 

From  the  deep  cool  bed  of  the  river 
The  limpid  water  turbidly  ran, 
And  the  broken  lilies  a-dying  lay. 
And  the  dragon-fly  had  fled  away. 

Ere  he  brought  it  out  of  the  river. 


10 


High  on  the  shore  sat  the  great  god  Pan, 
While  turbidly  flowed  the  river ; 


176  THE  HILL  READERS 

And  hacked  and  hewed  as  a  great  god  can. 
With  his  hard  hleak  steel  at  the  patient  reed, 
Till  there  was  not  a  sign  of  a  leaf  indeed 
To  prove  it  fresh  from  the  river. 

5  He  cut  it  short,  did  the  great  god  Pan,  - 

(How  tall  it  stood  in  the  river !) 
Then  drew  the  pith,  like  the  heart  of  a  man. 
Steadily  from  the  outside  ring, 
And  notched  the  poor  dry  empty  thing 

10  In  holes,  as  he  sat  by  the  river. 

"  This  is  the  way,"  laughed  the  great  god  Pan 

(Laughed  while  he  sat  by  the  river), 
"  The  only  way,  since  gods  began 
To  make  sweet  music,  they  could  succeed." 
15  Then,  dropping  his  mouth  to  a  hole  in  the  reed. 

He  blew  in  power  by  the  river. 

Sweet,  sweet,  sweet,  0  Pan ! 

Piercing  sweet  by  the  river ! 
Blinding  sweet,  0  great  god  Pan ! 
20  The  sun  on  the  hill  forgot  to  die, 

And  the  lilies  revived,  and  the  dragon-fly 

Came  back  to  dream  on  the  river. 


BOOK  FOUR  177 

UNCLE  REMUS  AND  HIS  STORIES 

The  stories  of  Uncle  Remus  have  gladdened  the 
lives  of  countless  children.  These  stories,  however, 
did  not  start  with  the  man  who  first  wrote  them. 
Most  of  them,  old  perhaps  as  man,  came  with  the 
slaves  of  the  South  from  their  African  homes,  s 
where  for  hundreds  of  years  the  black  children  of 
forest  and  jungle  had  been  fascinated  or  frightened 
by  them. 

No  one  knows  who  first  told  these  o(id  stories. 
They  belonged  to  the  negro  race  only  as  they  lo 
had  belonged  to  other  races  long  before.  They, 
however,  particularly  pleased  the  simple-hearted 
negroes  because  their  lives  in  the  open  fields  and 
in  the  tangled  woods  made  them  familiar  with  the 
ways  of  the  animals  and  birds  about  which  the  15 
stories  were  told.  As  they  went  out  in  the  morn- 
ing they  saw  Br'er  Rabbit,  with  his  ''  cotton-patch  " 
tail  scurrying  before  them.  They  noted  the.  saucy 
cry  of  the  blue  jay  as  he  prowled  around  the  homes 
of  other  birds.  They  met  Br'er  Bear  in  the  silent  20 
paths  of  the  forest.  In  the  evenings  as  they 
returned  to  their  bamboo  shanties  they  caught 
glimpses  of  sly  Br'er  Fox  as  he  slunk  out  of  sight, 
and  they  heard  with  dread  the  "  tu-whit  tu-whoo  " 


178  THE  HILL  READERS 

of  Br'er  Owl  as  he  winged  his  way  through  the 
gathering  gloom. 

When  the  negroes  came  to  America  they  brought 
these  stories  with  them,  and  as  the  negroes  grew 
5  in  intelligence  the  stories  improved  in  art,  and 
hence  in  interest.  Story-teller  after  story-teller, 
adding  here  a  little  and  there  a  little,  made  the 
stories  better  and  better.  In  the  cabins  of  the 
cotton  field  and  of  the  canebrake  old  and  young 

10  alike  listened  with  rolling  eyes  and  open  mouth 
to  the  wonderful  ways  of  hare  and  fox,  of  bear, 
buzzard,  and  terrapin. 

By  and  by  these  stories  made  their  way  from 
the  cabin  of  the  slave  to  the  "  Great  House "  of 

15  the  master.  There  they  were  enjoyed  as  much 
as  they  had  been  in  the  slave  quarters.  But  for 
years  no  one  thought  of  writing  out  these  won- 
derful stories.  They  were  so  simple  and  so  famil- 
iar that  it  never  occurred  to  any  one  to  make 

20  ''  book  stories "  of  them. 

At  last  Irwin  Russell,  of  Mississippi,  began  to 
write  poems  in  the  language  of  the  plantation 
negroes.  The  popularity  of  these  poems  seems  to 
have  suggested   to   a   young   Georgia  editor   the 

25  happy  idea  of  writing  out  the  negro  stories  with 

.     which  he  had  all  his  life  been  familiar. 


BOOK  FOUR  179 

The  writer  who  with  much  hesitation  thus  began 
to  tell  these  charming  tales  was  Joel  Chandler 
Harris. 

Mr.  Harris  was  born  in  Putnam  County,  Georgia, 
in  1848.  One  who  knew  him  in  his  boyhood  de-  5 
scribes  him  as  red-haired,  freckle -faced,  shy,  mis- 
chievous, yet  thoughtful.  In  spite  of  a  slow-moving 
tongue,  he  had  a  wit  that  flashed  merrily,  a  mem- 
ory quick  to  hold  whatever  came  within  reach,  a 
mind  original  and  strong.  His  parents  were  too  lo 
poor  to  give  him  other  education  than  that  offered 
by  the  village  school. 

From  earliest  childhood  young  Harris  was  a  con- 
stant reader.  The  postmaster,  becoming  interested 
in  the  boy,  allowed  him  to  curl  up  on  an  old  green  is 
sofa  in  his  office  and  read  all  the  papers  that  were 
not  at  once  called  for.  His  mother  often  read  to 
him.  Among  the  books  that  she  read  was  The 
Vicar  of  Wakefield.  This  charming  book  so  at- 
tracted the  boy  that  he  could  repeat  entire  pages  20 
of  it,  and,  while  still  under  its  spell,  he  began  to 
write  childish  stories. 

All  unexpectedly  an  opportunity  came  to  him 
to  learn  more  about  the  art  of  writing.    His  native 
country  was  filled  with  an  unusually  well-educated  25 
class  of  people.    A  Mr.  Turner,  thinking  to  reach 


180  THE  HILL  READERS 

these  people  with  a  scholarly  publication,  decided 
to  start  a  carefully  edited  paper  on  his  plantation, 
about  nine  miles  from  the  town  of  Eatonton. 
Needing  an  office  boy,  Mr.  Turner  took  young 

5  Harris,  then  twelve  years  old,  into  his  office  to 
learn  the  printer's  trade. 

In  his  new  home  the  shy  but  thoughtful  boy 
fell  into  the  busy  stream  of  life  on  a  plantation  in 
the  old  South.    He  learned  the  ways  of  negroes  at 

10  work  and  at  play.  He  listened  to  their  songs  as 
their  hoes  swung  along  the  cotton  rows  or  as  their 
flying  fingers  snatched  the  cotton  from  opening 
bolls.  He  joined  them  at  night  when  with  flaring 
torches  and  yelping  hounds  they  chased  the  fat 

15  opossum  or  the  hard-fighting  raccoon.  Especially 
did  he  delight  to  visit  them  in  their  cabins  and  to 
hear  their  odd  stories  told  by  the  flickering  light 
of  pine  knots.  His  ready  memory  caught  their 
tricks  of  speech  and  gesture  and  stored  away  their 

20  odd  forms  of  humor.  He  heard  these  tales  merely 
for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  them,  and  with  no 
thought  that  he  would  some  day  teach  them  to 
the  children  of  many  lands.  If  the  gray-haired 
"  uncles "  and  "  aunties,"  who  told  him  the  best 

25  of  these  tales,  had  ever  dreamed  that  their  quiet 
boyish  listener  would  before  many  years  print  and 


BOOK  FOUR  181 

scatter  by  thousands  their  stories,  they  would  have 
stood  dumb  before  him. 

There,  too,  in  his  country  home  the  boy  became 
acquainted  with  the  ways  and  habits  of  birds  and 
beasts.  He  petted  the  horses,  made  friends  with  5 
the  dogs,  rambled  through  the  woods  to  catch 
glimpses  of  squirrel,  rabbit,  fox,  and  deer.  Like 
little  Hiawatha,  he 

Learned  of  every  bird  its  language, 

Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets.  10 

He  says  of  the  office  where  he  worked :  "  A 
partridge  built  her  nest  within  five  paces  of  the 
window  wh^re  I  learned  to  set  type,  and  hatched 
her  brood  undisturbed.  The  cat  squirrel  frolicked 
on  the  roof,  and  a  gray  fox,  whose  range  was  in  15 
the  neighborhood,  used  to'  flit  across  the  orchard 
path  in  full  sight." 

No  teller  of  animal  stories  could,  then,  have  had 
a  better  training  than  Harris  had  in  Mr.  Turner's 
home,  where  both  nature  and  books  were  loved.       20 

A  few  years  later  Editor  Turner  began  to  find 
spicy  little  articles  in  his  paper,  —  articles  which 
he  had  neither  written  nor  seen.  He  greatly  won- 
dered where  they  came  from,  but  he  was  too  wise  to 
question  the  shy  boy  who  sat  on  a  high  stool  before  26 


182  THE  HILL   READERS 

the  old-fashioned  case  of  type.  However,  he  soon 
found  that  the  articles  were  slipped  into  the  paper 
by  this  quiet  printer  boy.  Harris  took  the  following 
plan  to  keep  his  authorship  secret :  he  set  his  articles 
5  into  type  as  he  composed  them.  Hence  there  was 
never  a  scrap  of  paper,  or  "  copy,"  as  the  printers 
call  it,  to  show  where  the  articles  came  from. 

Mr.  Turner  was  much  pleased  with  the  ambition 
of  the  bright  boy,  and  opened  his  library  of  choice 

10  books  to  him.  In  his  spare  hours  Harris  took  to 
reading,  and  these  hours  in  a  country  library,  added 
to  his  habit  of  noticing  closely  everything  that 
came  near  him,  laid  the  foundation  on  which  in 
later  years  he  built  his  story-telhng  art. 

15  His  quiet  days  of  growth  ended,  however,  before 
he  was  eighteen.  "  The  blood-red  flower  of  war 
had  been  brought  to  bloom  "  in  our  land,  and  the 
young  printer  and  writer  saw  the  prosperous  coun- 
try around  him  made  desolate  by  the  Civil  War. 

20  The  homes  of  his  friends  were  broken  up,  the  paper 
in  which  he  took  so  much  pride  had  to  be  stopped, 
and  he,  now  an  expert  printer,  had  to  say  farewell 
to  those  who  had  befriended  him. 

After  working  in  several  different  cities  Harris 

25  finally,  in  1876,  moved  to  Atlanta,  where  he  has 
ever  since  lived.    He  became  one  of  the  editors  of 


BOOK  FOUR  183 

the  Atlanta  Constitution,  and  for  twenty-five  years 
his  charming  pen  and  happy  nature  aided  in  mak- 
ing that  paper  one  of  the  influential  dailies  of  our 
country.  A  few  years  ago  Mr.  Harris  retired  from 
active  newspaper  service,  and  now  devotes  his  time  5 
to  purely  literary  work. 

During  his  years  of  active  editorial  writing  he 
found  time  to  write  the  stories  that  rapidly  made 
him  famous.    In  the  quiet  of  his  own  home,  after 
the  cares  of  the  day  were  over,  he  shaped  the  ins  lo 
and  outs  of  Uncle  Remus' s  daily  doings,  or  followed 
Aunt  Minervy  Ann,  Runaway  Jake,  and  Free  Joe 
step   by  step   through   their   homely   but   cheery 
lives.    In  the  setting  of  his  stories  Mr.  Harris  often 
moves  out  of  the  world  of  man,  where  strife  after  i5 
dollars   and   after   honors   mars    happiness.     The 
reader  breathes  an  air  fragrant  with  wild  honey- 
suckle, blackberry  blossoms,  and   the   flowers  of 
swamp  and  forest.     With  glad  steps  he  follows 
the  author  into  a  fairy  world,  where  the  slippery  20 
Rabbit  drives  spurs   into  the  flanks  of   the  out- 
witted  Fox   in   a   wild   ride    to    Mis'   Meadows' s 
house,  or  where  Tar  Babies  clutch  the  fingers  of 
Rabbits  who  are  too  fond  of  Foxes'  cream.    The 
rare  skill  with  which  these  stories  are  told  rivals  25 
that  of  Hans.  Andersen. 


184  THE  HILL  READERS 

His  city  life  has  never  been  able  to  wean 
Mr. 'Harris  from  his  love  of  nature.  "He  is,"  says 
Ray  Stannard  Baker,  "a  great  lover  of  flowers 
and  spends  much  time  with  his  roses,  of  which  he 

5  grows  many  varieties.  He  knows  and  is  fast  friends 
with  every  bird  in  his  neighborhood.  Two  or  thre.e 
years  ago,  to  his  great  delight,  he  discovered  one 
morning  a  pair  of  wrens  building  a  nest  in  the 
letter  box  on  his  front  gatepost.    He  sat  half  the 

10  forenoon  watching  for  the  postman  in  order  to 
warn  him  not  to  disturb  the  wrens,  and  great  was 
his  solicitude  until  they  were  thoroughly  estab- 
lished. He  watched  and  cared  for  them  all  summer 
long,  until  the  yoimg  wrens  were  able  to  leave  home. 

15  One  day  he  wrote  an  editorial  for  the  Constitution 
and  entitled  it  '  The  Sign  of  the  Wren's  Nest.' 
Since  then  his  home  has  been  known  among  his 
friends  as  '  The  Sign  of  the  Wren's  Nest.' " 

Among  a  few  friends  Mr.  Harris  is  a  bright,  sun- 

20  shiny  companion,  bubbling  over  with  fun  and  sly 
humor.  Among  strangers  he  is  reserved  and  silent. 
In  his  writings  a  big-hearted  love  of  man  and  beast 
is  always  uppermost.  Nothing  harsh  or  unkind 
has  ever  come  from  his  pen. 

bamboo:  a  large,  jointed  grass  used  for  many  purposes. — 
solicitude:  anxiety. 


BOOK  FOUR  185 

UNCLE  RAIN  AND  BROTHER  DROUTH 

Joel  Chandler  Harris 

Note.  In  Mr.  Harris's  book,  Mr.  Rabbit  at  Home,  Mrs.  Mead- 
ows, one  of  the  characters,  tells  the  following  story  to  Mr.  Rabbit 
and  other  listeners. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows,  "once  upon  a  time 
there  lived  in  a  country  not  very  far  from  here  a  5 
man  who  had  a  wife  and  two  children,  —  a  boy 
and  a  girl.  This  was  not  a  large  family,-  but  the 
man  was  very  poor,  and  he  found  it  a  hard  matter 
to  get  along.  He  was  a  farmer,  and  farming,  no 
matter  what  they  say,  depends  almost  entirely  on  lo 
the  weather.  Now  this  farmer  never  could  get 
the  weather  he  wanted.  One  year  the  Rain  would 
come  and  drown  out  his  crops,  and  the  next  year 
the  Drouth  would  come  and  burn  them-  up. 

"Matters  went  from  bad  to  worse,  and  the  15 
farmer  and  his  wife  talked  of  nothing  else  but  the 
Rain  and  the  Drouth.  One  year  they  said  they 
would  have  made  a  living  but  for  the  Drouth,  and 
the  next  they  said  they  would  have  been  very  well 
off  but  for  the  Rain.  So  it  went  on  from  year  20 
to  year  until  the  two  children  —  the  boy  and  the 
girl  —  grew  up  large  enough  to  understand  what 


186  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

their  father  and  mother  were  talking  about.  One 
year  they'd  hear  they  could  have  no  Sunday 
clothes  and  shoes  because  of  the  Drouth.  The  next 
year  they'd  hear  they  could  have  no  shoes  and 

5  Sunday  clothes  because  of  the  Rain. 

''All  this  set  them  to  thinking.  The  boy  was 
about  ten  years  old  and  the  girl  was  about  nine. 
One  day  at  their  play  they  began  to  talk  as  they  had 
heard  their  father  and  mother  talk.    It  was  early  in 

10  the  spring,  and  their  father  was  even  then  plowing 
and  preparing  his  fields  for  planting  another  crop. 
" '  We  shall  have  warm  shoes  and  good  clothes 
next  winter  if  the  Rain  does  n't  come  and  stay  too 
long/  said  the  boy. 

15  " '  Yes,'  replied  the  girl ;  '  and  we  shall  have  good 
clothes  and  warm  shoes  if  the  Drouth  doesn't 
come  and  stay  too  long.' 

" '  I  wonder  why  they  've  got  such  a  spite  against 
us/  remarked  the  boy. 

20  "  '  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know/  replied  the  girl.  '  If 
we  go  and  see  them,  and  tell  them  who  we  are, 
and  beg  them  not  to  make  us  so  cold  and  hungry 
when  the  ice  grows  in  the  ponds  and  on  the  trees, 
maybe  they  '11  take  pity  on  us.' 

25  "  This  plan  pleased  the  boy,  and  the  two  children 
continued  to  talk  it  over,  until  finally  they  agreed 


18^ 


188  THE  HILL  READERS 

to  go  in  search  of  the  Rain  and  the  Drouth.  '  Do 
you/  said  the  boy, '  go  in  search  of  Brother  Drouth, 
and  I  will  go  in  search  of  Uncle  Rain.  When  we 
have  found  them  we  must  ask  them  to  visit  our 

5  father's  house  and  farm,  and  see  the  trouble  and 
ruin  they  have  caused.' 

"To  this  the  girl  agreed;  and  early  the  next 
morning,  after  eating  a  piece  of  corn  bread,  which 
was  all  they  had  for  breakfast,  they  started  on 

10  their  journey,  the  boy  going. to  the  east  and  the 
girl  to  the  south.  The  boy  traveled  a  long  way, 
and  for  many  days.  Sometimes  he  thought  he 
should  never  come  to  the  end  of  his  journey,  but 
finally  he  came  to  Cousin  Mist's  house,  and  there 

15  he  inquired  his  way. 

" '  What  do  you  want  with  Uncle  Rain  ? '  asked 
Cousin  Mist.  '  He  is  holding  court  now,  and  he  is 
very  busy.  Besides,  you  are  not  dressed  properly. 
When  people  go  to  com-t  they  have  to  wear  a  par- 

20  ticular  kind  of  dress.  In  your  case  you  certainly 
ought  to  have  ^a  big  umbrella  and  an  oilcloth 
overcoat.' 

" '  Well,'  replied  the  boy,  '  I  have  n't  got  'em, 
and  that's  the  end  of  that  part  of  it.    If  you'll 

25  show  me  the  way  to  Uncle  Rain's  house,  I'll  go 
on  and  be  much  obliged  to  boot.' 


BOOK  FOUR  189 

"Cousin  Mist  looked  at  the  boy  and  laughed. 
^You  are  a  bold  lad/  he  said;  ^and  since  you  are 
so  bold,  I  '11  lend  you  an  umbrella  and  an  oilcloth 
overcoat,  and  go  a  part  of  the  way  with  you.' 

"  So  the  boy  put  on  the  overcoat  and  hoisted  5 
the  umbrella,  and  trudged  along  the  muddy  road 
toward  the  house  of  Uncle  Rain.  When  they  came 
in  sight  of  it  Cousin  Mist  pointed  it  out,  told  the 
boy  good-by,  and  then  went  drizzling  back  home. 
The  boy  went  forward  boldly  and  knocked  at  the  lo 
door  of  Uncle  Rain's  house. 

" '  Who  is  there  ? '  inquired  Uncle  Rain  in  a 
hoarse  and  wheezy  voice.  He  seemed  to  have  the 
asthma,  the  choking  quinsy,  and  the  croup,  all  at 
the  same  time.  is 

"^It's  only  me,'  said  the  boy.  ^Please,  Uncle 
Rain,  open  the  door.' 

"  With  that  Uncle  Rain  opened  the  door  and 
invited  the  little   fellow  in.    He  did  more  than 
that ;  he  went  to  the  closet  and  got  out  a  dry  20 
spot,  and  told  the  boy  to  make  himself  as  com- 
fortable as  he  could." 

"  Got  out  a  —  what  ?  "  asked  Buster  John,  try- 
ing hard  to  keep  from  laughing. 

"  A  dry  spot,"  replied  Mrs.  Meadows  solemnly.  25 
"  Uncle  Rain  went  to  the  closet  and  got  out  a  dry 


190  THE  HILL  READERS 

spot.  Of  course,"  she  continued,  "  Uncle  Kain  had 
to  keep  a  supply  of  dry  spots  on  hand,  so  as  to 
make  his  visitors  comfortable.  It 's  a  great  thing 
to  be  polite.    The  boy  sat  on  the  dry  spot,  and, 

5  after  some  remarks  about  the  weather.  Uncle  Rain 
asked  him  why  he  had  come  so  far  over  the  rough 
roads.  Then  the  boy  told  Uncle  Rain  the  whole 
story  about  how  poor  his  father  was,  and  how  he 
had  been  made  poorer  year  after  year,  first  by 

10  Brother  Drouth' and  then  by  Uncle  Rain.  And  then 
he  told  how  he  and  his  little  sister  had  to  go  with- 
out shoes  and  wear  thin  clothes  in  cold  weather, 
all  because  the  crops  were  ruined  year  after  year, 
either  by  Brother  Drouth  or  Uncle  Rain. 

15  "  He  told  his  story  so  simply  and  with  so  much 
feeling  that  Uncle  Rain  was  compelled  to  wipe  his 
eyes  on  a  corner  of  the  fog  that  hung  on  a  towel 
rack  behind  the  door.  He  asked  the  boy  a  great 
many  questions  about  his  father  and  his  mother. 

20  "^I  reckon,'  said  Uncle  Rain  finally,  Hhat  I 
have  done  all  of  you  a  great  deal  of  damage  with- 
out knowing  it,  but  I  think  I  can  pay  it  back. 
Bring  the  dry  spot  with  you,  and  come  with  me.' 
He  went  into  the  barnyard  and  the  boy  followed. 

25  They  went  into  the  barn,  and  there  the  boy  saw, 
tied  by  a  silver  cord,  a  little  black  sheep.    It  was 


BOOK  FOUR  191 

very  small,  but  seemed  to  be  full-grown,  because 
it  had  long  horns  that  curled  round  and  round  on 
the  sides  of  its  head.  And,  although  the  horns 
were  long  and  hard,  the  little  sheep  was  very 
friendly.  It  rubbed  its  head  softly  against  the  boy's  5 
hand,  and  seemed  to  be  fond  of  him  at  first  sight. 

"Uncle  Rain  untied  the  silver  cord  and  placed 
the  loose  end  in  the  boy's  hand.  '  Here  is  a  sheep,' 
he  said, /that  is  worth  more  than  all  the  flocks  in 
the  world.  When  you  want  gold,  all  you  have  to  lo 
do  is  to  press  the  golden  spring  undej,  the  left 
horn.  The  horn  will  then  come  off,  and  you  will 
find  it  full  of  gold.  When  you  want  silver,  press 
the  silver  spring  under  the  right  horn.  The  horn 
will  come  off,  and  you  will  find  it  full  of  silver,  is 
When  the  horns  have  been  emptied,  place  them 
back  where  they  belong.  This  may  be  done  once, 
twice,  or  fifty  times  a  day.' 

"  The  boy  did  n't  know   how  to  thank  Uncle 
Rain  for  this  wonderful  gift.    H3  was  so  eager  to  20 
get  home  that  he  would  have  started  off  at  once. 

"  '  Wait  a  minute,'  said  Uncle  Rain.    '  You  may 
tell  your  father  about  this,  but  he  must  tell  no 
one  else.    The  moment  the  secret  of  the  sheep  is 
told   outside   your   family   it   will   no    longer   be  25 
valuable  to  you.' 


192  THE  HILL  READERS 

"  The  boy  thanked  Uncle  Rain  again,  and  started 
for  home,  leading  his  wonderful  sheep,  which 
trotted  along  after  him,  as  if  it  were  glad  to  go 
with  him.  The  boy  went  home  much  faster  than 
5  he  had  gone  away,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he 
reached  there." 

"But  what  became  of  the  little  girl?"  asked 
Sweetest  Susan,  as  Mrs.  Meadows  paused  for  a 
moment. 

10  "  I  am  coming  to  her  now,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows. 
"  The  girl,  according  to  the  bargain  that  had  been 
made  between  her  and  her  brother,  was  to  visit 
Brother  Drouth  and  lay  her  complaints  before 
him.    So  she  started  on  her  way.    As  she  went 

15  along,  the  roads  began  to  get  drier  and  drier,  and 
the  grass  on  the  ground  and  the  leaves  on  the 
trees  began  to  look  as  if  they  had  been  sprinkled 
with  yellow  powder.  By  these  signs  the  girl 
knew  that   she  was  not   far  from  the  house  of 

20  Cousin  Dust,  and  presently  she  saw  it  in  the  dis- 
tance. She  went  to  the  door,  which  was  open,  and 
inquired  the  way  to  Brother  Drouth's.  Cousin  Dust 
was  much  surprised  to  see  a  little  girl  at  his  door ; 
but   after   a  long   fit   of   coughing   he   recovered 

25  himself  and  told  her  that  she  was  now  in  Brother 
Drouth's  country. 


BOOK  FOUR  193 

"^If  you'll  show  me  the  way,'  said  the  girl, 
'  I  '11  be  more  than  obliged  to  you.' 

"  ^  I  '11  go  a  part  of  the  way  with  you/  said 
Cousin  Dust,  ^and  lend  you  a  fan  besides.' 

"  So  they  went  along  until  they  came  in  sight  s 
of  Brother  Drouth's  house,  and  then  Cousin  Dust 
went  eddying  back  home  in  the  shape  of  a  small 
whirlwind.  The  girl  went  to  Brother  Drouth's 
door  and  knocked.  Brother  Drouth  came  at  once 
and  opened  the  door,  and  invited  her  in.  lo 

"  '  I  '11  not  deny  that  I  'm  surprised^  said  he ; 
'  for  I  never  expected  to  find  a  little  girl  knocking 
at  my  door  at  this  time  of  day.  But  I  'm  glad  to 
see  you.    You  must  have  come  a  long  journey.' 

"  With  that  he  went  to  the  cupboard  and  got  is 
her  a  cool  place  to  sit  on,  and  this  she  found  very 
comfortable.    But  still  Brother  Drouth  was  n't  sat- 
isfied.   As  his  visitor  was  a  little  girl,  he  wanted 
to  be  extra  polite,  and  so  he  w^ent  to  his  private 
closet  and  brought  her  a  fresh  breeze  with  a  handle  20 
to  it ;  and,  as  the  cool  place  had  a  cushioned  back 
and  the  fresh  breeze  a  handle  that  the  girl  could 
manage,  she  felt  better  in  Brother  Drouth's  house 
than  she  had  at  any  time  during  her  long  journey. 
She  sat  there  on  the  cool  place  and  fanned  with  25 
the  fresh  breeze,  and  Brother  Drouth  sat  in  his 


194  THE  HILL  EEADEKS 

big  armchair  and  smiled  at  her.    The  little  girl 
noticed  this  after  a  while, "  and  so  she  said : 

" '  Oh,  you  can  laugh ;  but  it 's  no  laughing 
matter.     If    you   could   see    the    trouble   youVe 

5  caused  at  our  house,  you  'd  laugh  on  the  other 
side  of  your  mouth.' 

"When  he  heard  this  Brother  Drouth  at  once 
became  very  serious,  and  apologized.  He  said 
he  wasn't  laughing,  but  just  smiling  because  he 

10  thought  she  was  enjoying  herself. 

" '  I  may  be  enjoying  myself  now,'  said  the  little 
girl,  '  and  I  'm  much  obliged  to  you ;  but  if  I  was 
at  home,  I  should  n't  be  enjoying  myself.' 

"  Then  she  went  on  to  tell  Brother  Drouth  how 

15  her  father's  crops  had  been  ruined  year  after  year, 
either  by  Uncle  Rain  or  by  Brother  Drouth,  and 
how  the  family  got  poorer  and  poorer  all  the  time 
on  that  account,  so  that  the  little  children  could  n't 
have  warm  shoes  and  thick  clothes  in  cold  weather, 

20  but  had  to  go  barefooted  and  wear  rags.  Brother 
Drouth  listened  with  all  his  ears;  and  when  the 
little  girl  had  told  her  story  he  shook  his  head  and 
said  that  he  was  to  blame  as  well  as  Uncle  Rain. 
He  explained  that  for  many  years  there  had  been  a 

25  trial  of  strength  going  on  between  him  and  Uncle 
Rain,  and  they  had  become  so  much  interested  in 


BOOK  FOUR  195 

overcoming  each  other  that  they  had  paid  no 
attention  to  poor  people's  crops.  He  said  he  was 
sorry  that  he  had  taken  part  in  any  such  affair. 
Then  he  told  the  little  girl  that  he  thought  he 
could  pay  her  for  a  part  of  the  damage  he  had  5 
done,  and  that  he  would  be  more  than  glad 
to  do  so. 

" '  Bring  your  cool  place  and  your  fresh  breeze 
with  you,  and  come  with  me/  said  he. 

"She   followed    Brother   Drouth   out   into   the  lo 
barnyard,  and  into  the  bam;  and  there,^  tied  by 
a  golden  cord,  she  saw  a  snow-white  goat. 

" '  This  goat,'  said  Brother  Drouth,  '  is  worth 
more  than  all  the  goats  in  the  world,  tame  or 
wild.'  With  that  he  untied  the  golden  cord  and  15 
placed  the  loose  end  in  the  girl's  hand.  The  goat 
was  small,  but  seemed  to  be  old,  for  its  horns, 
which  were  of  the  color  of  ivory,  curved  upward 
and  over  its  back.  They  were  so  long  that,  by 
turning  its  head  a  bit,  the  snow-white  goat  could  20 
scratch  itself  on  its  ham.  And,  though  it  seemed 
to  be  old,  it  was  very  gentle ;  for  it  rubbed  its 
nose  and  face  against  the  little  girl's  frock,  and 
appeared  to  be  very  glad  to  see  her. 

'^ '  Now,  then,'  said  Brother  Drouth,  '  this  goat  25 
is  yours.    Take  it  and  take  care  of  it.    On  the  under 


196  THE  HILL  READERS 

side  of  each  horn  you  will  find  a  small  spring. 
Touch  it,  and  the  horn  will  come  off;  and  each 
horn,  no  matter  how  many  times  you  touch  the 
spring,  you  will  always  find  full  of  gold  and  silver. 

5  But  this  is  not  all.  At  each  change  of  the  moon 
you  will  find  the  right  horn  full  of  diamonds  and 
the  left  horn  full  of  pearls.  Now  listen  to  me. 
You  may  tell  your  father  about  this  treasure  ;  but 
as  soon  as  the  secret  is  told  out  of  the  family  your 

10  goat  will  be  worth  no  more  to  you  than  any  other 
goat  would  be.' 

"The  little  girl  thanked  Brother  Drouth  until 
he  would  allow  her  to  thank  him  no  more.  She 
would  have  left  the  cool  place  and  the  fresh  breeze, 

15  but  Brother  Drouth  said  she  was  welcome  to  both 
of  them.  ^When  the  weather  is  cold,'  said  he, 
'you  can  put  them  away;  but  when  it  is  warm 
you  will  find  that  the  cool  place  and  the  fresh 
breeze  will  come  in  right  handy.' 

20  "Thanking  Brother  Drouth  again  and  again, 
the  girl  started  on  her  journey  home,  leading  her 
wonderful  goat  and  carrying  with  her  the  cool 
place  and  the  fresh  breeze.  In  this  way  she  made 
the  long  journey  with  ease  and  comfort,  and  came 

25  to  her  father's  house  without  any  trouble.  She 
reached  the  gate,  too,  just  as   her   brother   did. 


BOOK  FOUR 


197 


They  were  very  glad  to  see  each  other,  and  the 
sheep  and  the  goat  appeared  to  be  old  friends, 
for  they  rubbed  their  noses  together  in  friendly 
fashion. 

" '  I  '11  make  our  father  and  mother  rich,'  said    s 
the  boy  proudly. 

" '  And  I  '11  make  them   richer,'   said  the   girl 
still  more  proudly. 

"  So  they  took  their  wonderful  goat  and  sheep 
into  the  stable,  gave  them  some  hay  to  eat,  and  lo 
then  went  into  the  house." 

Copyright,  1894.    Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  Publishers. 


198  THE  HILL   READERS 

THE  LAST  LEAF 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  (1809-1894),  poet,  essayist,  nov- 
elist, and  physician,  was  born  in  Cambridge,  Massachusetts. 
After  being  graduated  at  Harvard  in  the  celebrated  class  of  1829, 
he  studied  medicine  in  America  and  in  France.  In  1838  he  was 
5  elected  professor  of  anatomy  in  Dartmouth  College.  A  few  years 
later  he  was  called  to  the  same  chair  in  Harvard  University,  and 
for  thirty-five  years  he  filled  acceptably  this  professorship. 

When  he  was  twenty-one  years  old  he  began  his  long  poetic 
career  by  the  patriotic  stanzas  on  Old  Ironsides,  —  a  poem  that 

10  saved  the  historic  frigate  Constitution  from  being  dismantled. 
Among  his  most  popular  poems  are  The  Chambered  Nautilus,  Under 
the  Violets,  Lexington,  The  Voiceless,  The  Deacon's  Masterpiece,  The 
Boys,  The  Ploughman,  How  the  Old  Horse  won  the  Bet. 

On  the  launching  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly  in  1857,  Lowell 

15  accepted  the  editorship  on  condition  that  Holmes  should  write 
regularly  for  the  magazine.  To  carry  out  the  part  assigned  him. 
Holmes  turned  his  attention  to  prose,  and  began  the  charming 
Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast-Table  series.  These  papers  did  much 
to  establish  the  high  character  of  the  magazine  and  make  it 

20  successful. 

I  saw  him  once  before, 
As  he  passed  by  the  door, 

And  again 
The  pavement  stones  resound, 
26  As  he  totters  o'er  the  ground 

With  his  cane. 


BOOK  FOUR  199 

They  say  that,  in  his  prime, 
Ere  the  pruning  knife  of  Time 

Cut  him  down, 
Not  a  better  man  was  found 
By  the  crier  on  his  round  6 

Through  the  town. 

But  now  he  walks  the  streets, 
And  he  looks  at  all  he  meets 

Sad  and  wan. 
And  he  shakes  his  feeble  head,  lo 

That  it  seems  as  if  he  said, 

"  They  are  gone." 

The  mossy  marbles  rest 

On  the  lips  that  he  has  prest 

In  their  bloom,  16 

And  the  names  he  loved  to  hear 
Have  been  carved  for  many  a  year 

On  the  tomb. 

My  grandmamma  has  said,  — 

Poor  old  lady,  she  is  dead  20 

Long  ago,  — 
That  he  had  a  Roman  nose. 
And  his  cheek  was  like  a  rose 

In  the  snow. 


200  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

But  now  his-  nose  is  thin, 
And  it  rests  upon  his  chin 

Like  a  staff, 
And  a  crook  is  in  his  back, 
5  And  a  melancholy  crack 

In  his  laugh. 

I  know  it  is  a  sin 
For  me  to  sit  and  grin 

At  him  here ; 
la  But  the  old  three-cornered  hat, 

And  the  breeches,  and  all  that, 

Are  so  queer ! 

And  if  I  should  live  to  be 
The  last  leaf  upon  the  tree 
15  In  the  spring,  — 

Let  them  smile,  as  I  do  now. 
At  the  old  forsaken  bough 
Where  I  cling. 

crier :  the  town  crier  was  an  officer  who  used  to  cry  aloud  the 
orders  of  the  court. 


BOOK  FOUR  201 

A  CHILD'S  DREAM  OF  A  STAR 
Charles  Dickens 

Charles  Dickens  (1812-1870),  one  of  the  greatest  of  Eng- 
lish novelists,  was  born  in  Landport,  but  reared  in  London.  A 
child  of  poverty,  he  rose  through  his  own  efforts  to  comfort  and 
fame.  Like  all  great  novelists,  he  took  a  deep  interest  in  the 
world  around  him.  It  was  the  mission  of  his  genius  to  keep  5 
mankind  from  hearing  "with  a  disdainful  smile  the  short  and 
simple  annals  of  the  poor." 

Dickens  had  great  skill  in  drawing  the  characters  of  children. 
His  pen  pictures  of  Little  Nell,  David  Copperfield,  Oliver  Twist, 
and  Paul  and  Florence  Dombey  have  endeared  him  to  the  children  10 
of  two  continents. 

There  was  once  a  child,  and  he  strolled  about  a 
good  deal,  and  thought  of  a  number  of  things. 
He  had  a  sister,  who  was  a  child  too,  and  his  con- 
stant companion.  These  two  used  to  wonder  all  i5 
day  long.  They  wondered  at  the  beauty  of  the 
flowers ;  they  wondered  at  the  height  and  blueness 
of  the  sky;  they  wondered  at  the  depth  of  the 
bright  water ;  they  wondered  at  the  goodness  and 
the  power  of  God,  who  made  the  lovely  world.  20 

There  was  one  clear  shining  star  that  used  to 
come  out  in  the  sky  before  the  rest,  near  the 
church  spire,  above  the  graves.  It  was  larger  and 
more  beautiful,  they  thought,  than  all  the  others, 


202  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

and  every  night  they  watched  for  it,  standing 
hand  in  hand  at  the  window.  Whoever  saw  it  first 
cried  out,  "  I  see  the  star  !  "  And  often  they  cried 
out  both  together,  knowing  so  well  when  it  would 
5  rise,  and  where.  So  they  grew  to  be  such  friends 
with  it  that,  before  lying  down  in  their  beds,  they 
always  looked  out  once  again,  to  bid  it  good  night ; 
and  when  they  were  turning  round  to  sleep  they 
used  to  say,  "  God  bless  the  star !  " 

10  But  while  she  was  still  very  young,  oh !  very, 
very  young,  the  sister  drooped  and  came  to  be  so 
weak  that  she  could  no  longer  stand  in  the  win- 
dow at  night ;  and  then  the  child  looked  sadly  out 
by   himself,    and  when  he  saw  the  star,  turned 

15  round  and  said  to  the  patient  pale  face  on  the  bed, 
"  I  see  the  star !  "  and  then  a  smile  would  come 
upon  the  face,  and  a  little  weak  voice  used  to  say, 
"  God  bless  my  brother  and  the  star !  " 

And  so  the  time  came,  all  too  soon!  when  the 

20  child  looked  out  alone,  and  when  there  was  no 
face  on  the  bed;  and  when  there  was  a  little 
grave  among  the  graves,  not  there  before;  and 
when  the  star  made  long  rays  down  toward  him, 
as  he  saw  it  through  his  tears. 

25  Now  these  rays  were  so  bright,  and  they  seemed 
to  make  such  a  shining  way  from  earth  to  heaven, 


BOOK  FOUR  203 

that  when  the  child  went  to  his  sohtary  bed  he 
dreamed  about  the  star;  and  dreamed  that,  lying 
where  he  was,  he  saw  a  train  of  people  taken 
up  that  sparkling  road  by  angels.  And  the  star, 
opening,  showed  him  a  great  world  of  light,  where  5 
many  more  such  angels  waited  to  receive  them. 

All  these  angels,  who  were  waiting,  turned  their 
beaming  eyes  upon  the  people  who  were  carried 
up  into  the  star ;  and  some  came  out  from  the  long 
rows  in  which  they  stood,  and  fell  upon  the  peo-  lo 
pie's  necks,  and  kissed  them  .tenderly,  -and  went 
away  with  them  down  avenues  of  light,  and  were 
so  happy  in  their  company  that,  lying  in  his  bed, 
he  wept  for  joy. 

But  there  were  many  angels  who  did  not  go  is 
with  them,  and  among  them  was  one  that  he  knew. 
The  patient  face  that  had  lain  upon  the  bed  was 
glorified  and  radiant,  but  his  heart  found  out  his 
sister  among  all  the  host. 

His  sister's  angel  lingered  near  the  entrance  of  20 
the  star,  and  said  to  the  leader  among  those  who 
had  brought  the  people  thither,  "  Is  my  brother 
come?" 

And  he  said  "  No." 

She   was    turning    hopefully    away,   when    the  25 
child  stretched  out  his  arms  and  cried :  "0  sister ! 


204  THE  HILL  READERS 

I  am  here.  Take  me."  And  then,  she  turned  her 
beaming  eyes  upon  him,  and  it  was  night;  and  the 
star  was  shining  into  the  room,  making  long  rays 
down  toward  him  as  he  saw  it  through  his  tears. 

5  From  that  hour  forth  the  child  looked  out  upon 
the  star  as  on  the  home  he  was  to  go  to  when  his 
time  should  come ;  and  he  thought  that  he  did  not 
belong  to  the  earth  alone,  but  to  the  star  too,  be- 
cause of  his  sister's  angel  gone  before. 

10  There  was  a  baby  born  to  be  a  brother  to  the 
child ;  and  while  he  was  so  little  that  he  never  yet 
had  spoken  a  word,  he  stretched  his  tiny  form  out 
on  his  bed  and  died. 

Again  the  child  dreamed  of  the  opened  star,  and 

15  of  the  company  of  angels,  and  the  train  of  people, 
and  the  rows  of  angels  with  their  beaming  eyes  all 
turned  upon  those  people's  faces. 

Said  his  sister's  angel  to  the  leader,  "Is  my 
brother  come?" 

20      And  he  said,  "  Not  that  one,  but  another." 

As  the  child  beheld  his  brother's  angel  in  her 
arms,  he  cried  :  "  0  sister !  I  am  here.  Take  me." 
And  she  turned  and  smiled  upon  him,  and  the  star 
was  shining. 

25  He  grew  to  be  a  young  man,  and  was  busy  at  his 
books  when  an  old  servant  came  to  him  and  said: 


BOOK  FOUR  205 

"  Thy  mother  is  no  more.    I  bring  her  blessing  on 
her  darling  son." 

Again  at  night  he  saw  the  star,  and  all  that  for- 
mer company.  Said  his  sister's  angel  to  the  leader, 
"  Is  my  brother  come  ?  "  5 

And  he  said,  "  Thy  mother." 

A  mighty  cry  of  joy  went  forth  through  all  the 
star,  because  the  mother  was  reunited  to  her  two 
children.  And  he  stretched  out  his  arms  and  cried : 
"  0  mother,  sister,  and  brother !  I  am  here.  Take  10 
me."  And  they  answered  him,  '^  Not  yet";  and 
the  star  was  shining. 

He  grew  to  be  a  man  whose  hair  was  turning 
gray,  and  he  was  sitting  in  his  chair  by  the  fireside, 
heavy  with  grief,  and  with  his  face  bedewed  with  15 
tears,  when  the  star  opened  once  again. 

Said  his  sister's  angel  to  the  leader,  "  Is  my 
brother  come  ?  " 

And  he  said, ' "  Nay,  but  his  maiden  daughter." 

And  the  man  who  had  been  the  child  saw  his  20 
daughter,  newly  lost  to  him,  a  celestial  creature 
among  those  three  ;  and  he  said,  "  My  daughter's 
head  is  on  my  sister's  bosom,  and  her  arm  is  round 
my  mother's  neck,  and  at  her  feet  there  is  the  baby 
of  old  time,  and  I  can  bear  the  parting  from  her,  25 
God  be  praised!" 


206 


THE  HILL  EEADEKS 


And  the  star  was  shining. 

Thus  the  child  came  to  be  an  old  man,  and  his 
once  smooth  face  was  wrinkled,  and  his  steps  were 
slow  and  feeble,  and  his  back  was  bent.  And  one 
5  night  as  he  lay  upon  his  bed,  his  children  standing 
round,  he  cried,  as  he  had  cried  so  long  ago,  "  I  see 
the  star ! " 

They  whispered  one  to  another,  "  He  is  dying." 

And  he  said  :  "  I  am.    My  age  is  falling  from  me 

10  like  a  garment,  and  I  move  toward  the  star  as  a 

child.    And  oh,  my  Father,  now  I  thank  thee  that  it 

has  so  often  opened  to  receive  those  dear  ones  who 

await  me ! " 

And  the  star  was  shining;  and  it  shines  upon 
15  his  grave. 


BOOK  FOUE,  207 

ATTACKED  BY  A  MOOSE 

William  Joseph  Long 

William  Joseph  Long  (1867-  ),  writer  of  out-of-door 
stories  and  wilderness  ways,  was  born  in  North  Attleboro,  Massa- 
chusetts. His  academic  course  was  taken  at  Harvard  University, 
and  his  theological  studies  were  pursued  at  Andover  Seminary. 
He  also  studied  in  Germany  and  took  his  doctor's  degree  at  5 
Heidelberg.  Ways  of  Wood  Folk,  Wilderness  Ways,  and  School  of 
the  Woods  are  fresh  and  original  books. 

The  worst  of  them  all  was  the  big  bjill  moose 
whose  tracks  were  on  the  shore  when  we  arrived. 
He  was  a  morose,  ugly  old  brute,  living  apart  by  lo 
himself,  with  temper  always  on  edge,  ready  to  bully 
anything  that  dared  to  cross  his  path  or  question 
his  lordship.  Whether  he  was  an  outcast,  grown 
surly  from  living  too  much  alone,  or  whether  he 
bore  some  bullet  wound  to  account  for  his  hos-  i5 
tility  to  man,  I  could  never  find  out. 

Before  we  had  found  this  out  I  stumbled  upon 
the  big  bull  one  afternoon,  and  came  near  paying 
the  penalty  of  my  ignorance.  I  had  been  still- 
fishing  for  togue,  and  was  on  my  way  back  to  camp  20 
when,  doubling  a  point,  I  ran  plump  upon  a  bull 
moose  feeding  among  the  lily  pads.  My  approach 
had  been  perfectly  silent,  —  that  is  the  only  way  to 


208  THE  HILL  READERS 

see  things  in  the  woods,  —  and  he  was  quite  uncon- 
scious that  anybody  but  himself  was  near. 

He  would  plunge  his  great  head  under  water  till 
only  his  antler  tips  showed,  and  nose  around  on 

5  the  bottom  till  he  found  a  lily  root.  With  a  heave 
and  a  jerk  he  would  drag  it  out,  and  stand  chewing 
it  endwise,  with  huge  satisfaction,  while  the  muddy 
water  trickled  down  over  his  face.  When  it  was 
all  eaten,  he  would  grope  under  the  lily  pads  for 

10  another  root  in  the  same  way. 

Without  thinking  much  of  the  possible  risk,  I 
began  to  creep  toward  him.  While  his  liead  was 
under  I  would  work  the  canoe  along  silently,  sim- 
ply "  rolling  the  paddle  "  without  lifting  it  from 

15  the  water.  At  the  first  lift  of  his  antlers  I  would 
stop  and  sit  low  in  the  canoe  till  he  finished  his 
juicy  morsel  and  ducked  for  more.  Then  one  could 
slip  along  again  without  being  discovered. 

Two  or  three  times  this  was  repeated  success- 

20  fully,  and  still  the  big,  unconscious  brute,  facing 
away  from  me  fortunately,  had  no  idea  that  he 
was  being  watched.  His  head  went  under  the 
water  again  —  not  so  deep  this  time ;  but  I  was  too 
absorbed  in  the  pretty  game  to  notice  that  he  had 

26  found  the  end  of  a  root  above  the  mud,  and  that 
his  ears  were  out  of  water.    A  ripple  from  the  bow 


209 


210  THE  HILL  KEADEES 

of  my  canoe,  or  perhaps  the  faint  brush  of  a  lily 
leaf  against  the  side,  reached  him.  His  head  burst 
out  of  the  pads  unexpectedly;  with  a  snort  and  a 
mighty  flounder  he  whirled  upon  me ;  and  there 
5  he  stood  quivering,  ears,  eyes,  nose  —  everything 
about  him,  reaching  out  to  me  and  shooting  ques- 
tions at  my  head  with  an  insistence  that  demanded 
instant  answer. 

I  kept  quiet,  though  I  was  altogether  too  near 

10  the  big  brute  for  comfort,  till  an  unfortunate  breeze 
brushed  the  bow  of  my  canoe  still  nearer  to  where 
he  stood,  threatening  now  instead  of  questioning. 
The  mane  on  his  back  began  to  bristle,  and  I  knew 
that  I  had  but  a  small  second  in  which  to  act.  To 

15  get  speed  I  swung  the  bow  of  the  canoe  outward, 
instead  of  backing  away.  The  movement  brought 
me  a  trifle  nearer,  yet  gave  me  a  chance  to  shoot 
by  him.  At  the  first  sudden  motion  he  leaped ; 
the  red  fire  blazed  out  of  his  eyes,  and  he  plunged 

20  straight  at  the  canoe  —  one,  two  splashing  jumps, 
and  the  huge  velvet  antlers  were  shaking  just  over 
me  and  the  deadly  forefoot  was  raised  for  a  blow. 

I  rolled  over  on  the  instant,  startling  the  brute 
with  a  yell  as  I  did  so,  and  upsetting  the  canoe 

25  between  us.  There  was  a  splintering  crack  behind 
me  as  I  struck  out  for  deep  water.    When  I  turned, 


BOOK  FOUR  211 

at  a  safe  distance,  the  bull  had  driven  one  sharp 
hoof  through  the  bottom  of  the  upturned  canoe, 
and  was  now  trying  awkwardly  to  pull  his  leg  out 
from  the  clinging  cedar  ribs.  He  seemed  frightened 
at  the  queer  dumb  thing  that  gripped  his  foot,  for  5 
he  grunted  and  jumped  back,  and  thrashed  his  big 
antlers  in  excitement;  but  he  was  getting  more 
angry  every  minute. 

To  save  the  canoe  from  being  pounded  to  pieces 
was  now  the  only  pressing  business  on  hand.    All  lo 
other   considerations    took    to   the   winds,  in   the 
thought  that,  if  the  bull's  fury  increased  and  he 
leaped  upon  the  canoe  as  he  does  when  he  means 
to  kill,  one  jump  would  put  the  frail  thing  beyond 
repair,  and  we  would  have  to  face  the  dangerous  15 
river  below  in  a  spruce  bark  of  our  own  building. 
I  swam  quickly  to  the   shore   and  splashed  and 
shouted  and  then  ran  away  to  attract  the  bull's 
attention.    He   came   after  me   on  the  instant  — 
unh  !  unh  !  chock,  chockety -chock  !  till  he  was  close  20 
enough  for  discomfort,  when  I  took  to  water  again. 
The  bull  followed,  deeper  and  deeper,  till  his  sides 
were  awash.    The  bottom  was  muddy,  and  he  trod 
gingerly;  but  there  was  no  fear  of  his  swimming 
after  me.    He  knows  his  limits,  and  they  stop  him  25 
shoulder  deep. 


212 


THE  HILL  READERS 


When  he  would  follow  no  further  I  swam  to 
the  canoe  and  tugged  it  out  into  deep  water. 
Umquenawis  stood  staring  now  in  astonishment 
at  the  sight  of  this  queer  man-fish.    The  red  light 

5  died  out  of  his  eyes  for  the  first  time,  and  his  ears 
wigwagged  like  flags  in  the  winds.  He  made  no 
effort  to  follow,  but  stood  as  he  was,  shoulder 
deep,  staring,  wondering,  till  I  landed  on  the  point 
above,  whipped  the   canoe   over,  and   spilled  the 

10  water  out  of  it.  *  ^    .  ^ 

Adapted 

morose  :  sullen.  —  togue  :  a  large  lake  trout.  —  Umquenawis  : 
Indian  name  for  moose.  — wigwagged  :  waved  as  signals. 


BOOK  FOUK  213 

MAY  DAY 

John  Wolcot 

Doctor  John  Wolcot  (1738-1819)  was  an  English  poet  who 
wrote  under  the  name  of  "  Peter  Pindar."  He  is  best  known  as  a 
writer  of  bright  and  amusing  poems.  Before  his  death  he  boasted 
that  his  poems  had  been  translated  into  six  different  languages. 

The  daisies  peep  from  every  field,  5 

The  violets  sweet  their  odors  yield  ; 
The  purple  blossom  paints  the  thorn, 
And  streams  reflect  the  blush  of  morn. 
Then  lads  and  lasses  all,  be  gay,' 
For  this  is  nature's  holiday.  lo 

Let  lusty  labor  drop  his  flail. 
Nor  woodman's  hook  a  tree  assail ; 
The  ox  shall  cease  his  neck  to  bow. 
And  Clodden  yield  to  rest  the  plow. 

Then  lads  and  lasses  all,  be  gay,  is 

For  this  is  nature's  holiday. 

Lo !  Sol  looks  down  with  radiant  eye. 
And  throws  a  smile  around  his  sky ; 
Embracing  hill,  and  vale,  and  stream. 
And  warming  nature  with  his  beam.  20 

Then  lads  and  lasses  all,  be  gay. 

For  this  is  nature's  holiday. 

Clodden  :  a  farmer.  —  Sol :  the  sun. 


214  THE  HILL  READEES 

THE  STRENGTH  OF  DOUGLAS 

Walter  Scott 

Sir  Walter  Scott  (1771-1832),  poet  and  novelist,  was  born 
in  Edinburgh,  Scotland.  When  he  was  eighteen  months  old  he 
was  sent  to  the  country  for  his  health.  For  six  years  he  was  free 
in  the  open  fields.  He  made  friends  with  dogs  and  sheep,  learned 
5  to  love  the  flowers,  streams,  and  trees,  and  stored  his  memory 
with  many  an  heroic  tale  and  legend. 

When  he  grew  stronger  he  was  sent  to  the  Edinburgh  high 
school,  where  his  companions  flocked  around  him  to  hear  his 
stories.    His  university  career  was  stopped  by  severe  illness,  and 

10  for  two  years  he  did  little  but  read  from  morning  until  bedtime. 
Poetry,  history,  and  romances  especially  delighted  him. 

Later  he  was  licensed  as  a  lawyer,  but  found  less  pleasure  in 
law  than  in  exploring  old  castles  and  in  packing  away  in  a  capa- 
cious memory  scraps  of  poetry,  quaint  legends,  and  wild  adven- 

15  tures  of  the  border.  An  appointment  as  sheriff  and  some  money 
from  his  marriage  enabled  him  to  give  up  the  practice  of  law 
and  to  settle  on  the  banks  of  the  Tweed  River,  where  literature 
became  more  and  more  the  chief  business  of  his  life.  From  the 
quiet  of  this  country  home  were  sent  forth  in  rajiid  succession 

20  those  poetical  tales  that  aroused  widespread  admiration  and 
enthusiasm.  First  came  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  and  this 
was  followed  by  Marmion,  The  Lady  of  the  Lake,  Rokeby,  The  Lord 
of  the  Isles,  and  other  poems.  These  were  followed  by  a  series  of 
novels,  called,  from  the  first  one  of  the  series,  the  Waverley  Novels. 

25  These  stories,  simple,  fresh,  delightful  alike  to  old  and  young, 
made  the  name  and  fame  of  Scott  immortal. 

The  Douglas,  who  had  bent  his  way 
From  Cambus-kenneth's  abbey  gray, 
Now,  as  he  climbed  the  rocky  shelf, 


BOOK  FOUR  215 

Held  sad  communion  with  himself :  —    ■ 

"  Yes  !  all  is  true  my  fears  could  frame ; 

A  prisoner  lies  the  noble  Graeme ; 

And  fiery  Roderick  soon  will  feel 

The  vengeance  of  the  royal  steel.  5 

I,  only  I,  can  ward  their  fate,  — 

God  grant  the  ransom  come  not  late ! 

But  hark  !  what  blithe  and  jolly  peal 

Makes  the  Franciscan  steeple  reel? 

And  see  !  upon  the  crowded  street    -  -  lo 

In  motley  groups  what  masquers  meet ! 

Banner  and  pageant,  pipe  and  drum, 

And  merry  morrice-dancers  come. 

I  guess  by  all  this  quaint  array. 

The  burghers  hold  their  sports  to-day.  i5 

James  will  be  there ;  he  loves  such  show, 

Where  the  good  yeoman  bends  his  bow. 

And  the  tough  wrestler  foils  his  foe. 

As  well  as  where,  in  proud  career. 

The  high-born  tilter  shivers  spear.  20 

I  '11  follow  to  the  Castle-park, 

And  play  my  prize ;  —  King  James  shall  mark 

If  age  has  tamed  these  sinews  stark, 

Whose  force  so  oft  in  happier  days 

His  boyish  wonder  loved  to  praise."  26 


216  THE  HILL  READERS 

The  Castle  gates  were  open  flung, 

The  quivering  drawbridge  rocked  and  rung, 

And  echoed  loud  the  flinty  street 

Beneath  the  coursers'  clattering  feet, 

As  slowly  down  the  deep  descent 

Fair  Scotland's  King  and  nobles  went. 


And  ever  James  was  bending  low 
To  his  white  jennet's  saddle-bow, 
Dofling  his  cap  to  city  dame, 
10  Who  smiled  and  blushed  for  pride  and  shame. 

And  well  the  simperer  might  be  vain,  — 
He  chose  the  fairest  of  the  train. 
Gravely  he  greets  each  city  sire, 


BOOK  FOUR  217 

Commends  each  pageant's  quaint  attire, 

Gives  to  the  dancers  thanks  aloud, 

And  smiles  and  nods  upon  the  crowd, 

Who  rend  the  heavens  with  their  acclaims,  — 

"  Long  live  the  Commons'  King,  King  James  !  "    5 

Behind  the  King  thronged  peer  and  knight. 

And  noble  dame  and  damsel  bright, 

Whose  fiery  steeds  ill  brooked  the  stay 

Of  the  steep  street  and  crowded  way. 

But  in  the  train  you  might  discern  lo 

Dark  lowering  brow  and  visage  stern;  "  ' 

There  nobles  mourned  their  pride  restrained, 

And  the  mean  burgher's  joys  disdained ; 

And  chiefs,  who,  hostage  for  their  clan. 

Were  each  from  home  a  banished  man,  15 

There  thought  upon  their  own  gray  tower. 

Their  waving  woods,  their  feudal  power. 

And  deemed  themselves  a  shameful  part 

Of  pageant  which  they  cursed  in  heart. 

Now,  in  the  Castle-park,  drew  out  20 

Their  checkered  bands  the  joyous  rout. 

There  morricers,  with  bell  at  heel 

And  blade  in  hand,  their  mazes  wheel ; 

But  chief,  beside  the  butts,  there  stand 

Bold  Robin  Hood  and  all  his  band,  —  25 


218  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

Friar  Tuck,  with  quarterstaff  and  cowl, 
Old  Scathelocke,  with  his  surly  scowl. 
Maid  Marian,  fair  as  ivory  bone. 
Scarlet,  and  Mutch,  and  Little  John ; 
5  Their  bugles  challenge  all  that  will. 

In  archery  to  prove  their  skill. 
The  Douglas  bent  a  bow  of  might. 
His  first  shaft  centered  in  the  white, 
And  when  in  turn  he  shot  again, 

10  His  second  split  the  first  in  twain. 

From  the  King's  hand  must  Douglas  take 
A  silver  dart,  the  archers'  stake ; 
Fondly  he  watched,  with  watery  eye, 
Some  answering  glance  of  sympathy,  — 

16  No  kind  emotion  made  reply  ! 

Indifferent  as  to  archer  wight. 
The  Monarch  gave  the  arrow  bright. 

Now,  clear  the  ring  !  for,  hand  to  hand. 
The  manly  wrestlers  take  their  stand.  • 

20  Two  o'er  the  rest  superior  rose, 

And  proud  demanded  mightier  foes,  — 
Nor  called  in  vain ;  for  Douglas  came. — 
For  life  is  Hugh  of  Larbert  lame ; 
Scarce  better  John  of  Alloa's  fare, 

26  Whom  senseless  home  his  comrades  bare. 


BOOK  FOUR  219 

Prize  of  the  wrestling  match,  the  King 

To  Douglas  gave  a  golden  ring, 

While  coldly  glanced  his  eye  of  blue, 

As  frozen  drop  of  wintry  dew. 

Douglas  would  speak,  but  in  his  breast  5 

His  struggling  soul  his  words  suppressed ; 

Indignant  then  he  turned  him  where 

Their  arms  the  brawny  yeomen  bare, 

To  hurl  the  massive  bar  in  air. 

When  each  his  utmost  strength  had  shown,       lo 

The  Douglas  rent  an  earth-fast  stone ' 

From  its  deep  bed,  then  heaved  it  high. 

And  sent  the  fragment  through  the  sky 

A  rood  beyond  the  farthest  mark ; 

And  still  in  Stirling's  royal  park,  15 

The  gray-haired  sires,  who  know  the  past. 

To  strangers  point  the  Douglas  cast. 

And  moralize  on  the  decay 

Of  Scottish  strength  in  modern  day. 

motley:  mixed.  —  masquers :  merrymakers  in  masks morrice 

dancers  :  leading  figures  in  parades  of  the  time.  They  imperson- 
ated popular  characters  like  Robin  Hood,  etc.  —  burghers :  free  men 
of  a  village  or  borough. — stark:  strong. — coursers:  war  horses. 
—  jennet:  a  Spanish  pony.  —  acclaims:  shouts. — peer:  lord. — 
brooked :  bore.  —  butts  :  marks  to  be  shot  at.  — wight :  active. 


220  THE  HILL   READERS 

GRACIE  OF  ALABAMA 
Francis  Orrery  Ticknor 

Francis  Orrery  Ticknor  (1822-1874),  an  American  poet  of 
delicate  fancy  and  rich  imagination,  was  a  native  of  Georgia. 
He  lived  near  Columbus  and  spent  his  life  as  a  busy  physician. 
From  childhood  he  was  a  melody  lover,  and,  in  the  presence 
5  of  the  beautiful,  the  pathetic,  the  heroic,  or  when  touched  by 
nature,  he  fell  into  song  as  naturally  as  birds  do. 

Little  Giffen,  The  Virginians  of  the  Valley,  and  April  Morning  are 
representative  of  his  power. 

Gracie  of  Alabama 
10  Walked  down  the  lines  with  Lee, 

Marking  through  mists  of  gunshot 
The  clouds  of  enemy. 

Thrice  Alabama's  warning 
Fell  on  a  heedless  ear, 
16  While  the  relentless  lead-storm, 

Converging,  hurtled  near ; 

Till,  straight  before  his  chieftain, 

Without  a  word  or  sign. 
He  stood,  a  shield  the  grandest, 
20  Against  the  Union  line. 

And  then  the  glass  was  lowered, 
A  voice  that  faltered  not 


BOOK  FOUR  221 

Said  in  its  measured  cadence, 

"  Why,  Gracie,  you  '11  be  shot !  " 

And  Alabama  answered, 

"  The  South  will  pardon  me 
If  the  ball  that  goes  through  Gracie  5 

Comes  short  of  Robert  Lee !  " 

Swept  a  swift  flash  of  crimson 

Athwart  the  chieftain's  cheek, 
And  the  eye  whose  glance  was  knighthood 

Spake  as  no  king  could  speak.  lo 

And  side  by  side  with  Gracie 

He  turned  from  shot  and  flame  — 

Side  by  side  with  Gracie 

Up  the  grand  aisle  of  fame. 

relentless  :  without  mercy.  —  converging  :  coming  to  one  point. 
—  hurtled:   rushed  with  a  crashing  sound. — measured  cadence: 

even  tone. 


222  '  THE  HILL  READERS 

DAYBREAK 

Percy  Bysshe  Shelley 

Percy  Bysshe  Shelley  (1792-1822),  an  English  poet  of  high 
rank,  had  a  short  and  unhappy  life.  Expelled  from  the  University 
of  Oxford  for  his  religious  views,  he  began  his  poetical  career,  in 
his  nineteenth  year,  with  his  crude  Queen  Mab.  Before  he  was 
5  thirty  delicate  health  drove  him  to  the  soft  climate  of  Italy,  where 
he  and  Lord  Byron  became  fast  friends.  In  1822,  while  indulging 
in  his  favorite  sport  of  boating,  the  young  poet  was  drowned. 

Shelley's  restless,  rebellious  spirit  found  expression  in  many 

beautiful  and  powerful  poems,  but  some  of  them  are  marred  by 

10  unwise  attacks  on  society,  government,  and  religion.    Many  of 

his  shorter  poems,  such  as  The  Skylark,  The  Sensitive  Plant,  and 

The  Cloud,  are  models  of  poetic  beauty  and  grace. 

Day  had  awakened  all  things  that  be, — 
The  lark  and  the  thrush  and  the  swallow  free, 
15       And  the  milkmaid's  song  and  mower's  scythe. 
And  the  matin  bell  and  the  mountain  bee. 
Fireflies  were  quenched  on  the  dewy  corn ; 
Glowworms  went  out  on  the  river's  brim. 
Like  lamps  which  a  student  forgets  to  trim ; 
20  The  beetle  forgot  to  wind  his  horn ; 

The  crickets  were  still  in  the  meadow  and  hill : 
Like  a  flock  of  rooks  at  a  farmer's  gun, 
Night's  dreams  and  terrors,  every  one, 
Fled  from  the  brains  which  are  their  prey 
25  From  the  lamp's  death  to  the  morning  ray. 


BOOK  FOUR  223 

DAFFYDOWNDILLY  —  I 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne 

Daffydowndilly  was  so  called  because  in  his 
nature  he  resembled  a  flower,  and  loved  to  do 
only  what  was  beautiful  and  agreeable,  and  took 
no  delight  in  labor  of  any  kind.  But  while  Daffy- 
downdilly  was  yet  a  little  boy  his  mother  sent  5 
him  away  from  his  pleasant  home,  and  put  him 
under  the  care  of  a  very  strict  schoolmaster,  who 
went  by  the  name  of  Mr.  Toil.  Those  who  knew 
him  best  affirmed  that  this  Mr.  Toil  was  a  very 
worthy  character ;  and  that  he  had  done  more  lo 
good,  both  to  children  and  grown  people,  than 
anybody  else  in  the  world.  Certainly  he  had  lived 
long  enough  to  do  a  great  deal  of  good ;  for,  if  all 
stories  be  true,  he  had  dwelt  upon  earth  ever  since 
Adam  was  driven  from  the  Garden  of  Eden.  i5 

Nevertheless,  Mr.  Toil  had  a  severe  and  ugly 
countenance,  especially  for  such  little  boys  or  big 
men  as  were  inclined  to  be  idle ;  his  voice,  too, 
was  harsh ;  and  all  his  ways  and  customs  seemed 
very  disagreeable  to  our  friend  Daffy downdilly.  20 
The  whole  day  long  this  terrible  old  schoolmaster 
sat  at  his  desk  overlooking  the  scholars,  or  stalked 


224  THE  HILL  READERS 

about  the  schoolroom  with  a  certain  awful  birch 
rod  in  his  hand.  Now  came  a  rap  over  the  shoul- 
ders of  a  boy  whom  Mr.  Toil  had  caught  at  play ; 
now  he  punished  a  whole  class  who  were  behind- 

5  hand  with  their  lessons ;  and,  in  short,  unless  a 
lad  chose  to  attend  quietly  and  constantly  to  his 
book,  he  had  no  chance  of  enjoying  a  quiet  moment 
in  the  schoolroom  of  Mr.  Toil. 

Now   the  whole   of   Daffy  do  wndilly's   life   had 

10  hitherto  been  passed  with  his  dear  mother,  who 
had  always  been  very  indulgent  to  her  little  boy. 
No  wonder,  therefore,  that  poor  Daffydowndilly 
found  it  a  woeful  change  to  be  sent  away  from 
the  good  lady's  side  and  put  under  the  care  of 

15  this  ugly-visaged   schoolmaster,  who  never   gave 

him  any  apples  or  cakes,  and  seemed  to  think 

that  little  boys  were  created  only  to  get  lessons. 

"I  can't  bear  it  any  longer,"  said  Daffydown- 

dilly  to  himself,  when  he  had  been  at  school  about 

20  a  week.  "  I  '11  run  away  and  try  to  find  my  dear 
mother;  and,  at  any  rate,  I  shall  never  find  any- 
body half  so  disagreeable  as  this  old  Mr.  Toil." 

So,  the   very   next   morning,  off   started   poor 
Daffydowndilly,  with  only  some  bread  and  cheese 

26  for  his  breakfast  and  very  little  pocket  money  to 
pay  his  expenses.    But  he  had  gone  only  a  short 


BOOK  FOUB  225 

distance  when  he  overtook  a  man  of  grave  and 
sedate  appearance,  who  was  trudging  at  a  mod- 
erate pace  along  the  road. 

"  Good  morning,  my  fine  lad,"  said  the  stranger ; 
and  his  voice  seemed  hard  and  severe,  but  yet  had    5 
a  sort  of  kindness  in  it.     "  Whence  do  you  come 
so  early,  and  whither  are  you  going  ?  " 

Little  Daffydowndilly  was  a  boy  of  very  frank 
disposition,  and  had  never  been  known  to  tell 
a  lie  in  all  his  life.  Nor  did  he  tell  one  now.  He  10 
hesitated  a  moment  or  two,  but  finally  confessed 
that  he  had  run  away  from  school  on  account  of 
his  great  dislike  to  Mr.  Toil ;  and  that  he  was 
resolved  to  find  some  place  in  the  world  where  he 
should  never  see  or  hear  of  that  disagreeable  old  15 
schoolmaster  again. 

"  Oh,  very  well,  my  little  friend,"  answered  the 
stranger.    "  Then  we  will  go  together ;  for  I,  like- 
wise, have  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  Mr.  Toil, 
and  should  be  glad  to  find  some  place  where  he  20 
was  never  heard  of." 

Our   friend    Daffydowndilly   would   have   been 
better  pleased  with  a  companion  of  his  own  age, 
with  whom  he  might  have  gathered  flowers  along 
the  roadside,  or  have  chased  butterflies,  or  have  25 
done   many   other  things   to   make  the   journey 


226  THE  HILL  READERS 

pleasant.  But  he  had  wisdom  enough  to  under- 
stand that  he  should  get  along  through  the  world 
much  more  easily  by  having  a  man  of  experi- 
ence to  show  him  the  way.    So  he  accepted  the 

5  stranger's    proposal,    and    they   walked   on    very 
sociably  together. 

They  had  not  gone  far  when  the  road  passed 
by  a  field  where  some  haymakers  were  at  work, 
mowing  down  the  tall  grass  and  spreading  it  out 

10  in  the. sun  to  dry.  Daffydowndilly  was  delighted 
with  the  sweet  smell  of  the  new-mown  grass,  and 
thought  how  much  pleasanter  it  must  be  to  make 
hay  in  the  sunshine,  under  the  blue  sky,  and  with 
the  birds  singing  sweetly  in  the  neighboring  trees 

15  and  bushes,  than  to  be  shut  up  in  a  dismal  school- 
room, learning  lessons  all  day  long,  and  continu- 
ally scolded  by  old  Mr.  Toil.  But  in  the  midst  of 
these  thoughts,  "while  he  was  stopping  to  peep 
over  the  stone  wall,  he  started  back  and  caught 

20  hold  of  his  companion's  hand. 

"  Quick,  quick  !  "  cried  he.  "  Let  us  run  away, 
or  he  will  catch  us." 

"  Who  will  catch  us  ?  "  asked  the  stranger. 
"Mr.   Toil,  the    old    schoolmaster,"    answered 

25  Daffydowndilly.  "Don't  you  see  him  amongst 
the  haymakers?" 


227 


228  THE  HILL  READERS 

And  Daffydowndilly  pointed  to  an  elderly  man, 
who  seemed  to  be  the  owner  of  the  field,  and 
the  employer  of  the  men  at  work  there.  He  had 
stripped  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  and  was  busily 

5  at  work  in  his  shirt  sleeves.  The  drops  of  sweat 
stood  upon  his  brow;  but  he  gave  himself  not  a 
moment's  rest,  and  kept  crying  out  to  the  hay- 
makers to  make  hay  while  the  sun  shone.  Now, 
strange  to  say,  the  figure  and  features  of  this  old 

10  farmer  were  .  precisely  the  same  as  those  of  old 
Mr.  Toil,  who,  at  that  very  moment,  must  have 
been  just  entering  his  schoolroom. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  said  the  stranger.  "This  is 
not  Mr.  Toil,  the  schoolmaster,  but  a  brother  of 

15  his,  who  was  bred  a  farmer ;  and  people  say  he  is 
the  more  disagreeable  man  of  the  two.  However, 
he  won't  trouble  you  unless  you  become  a  laborer 
on  the  farm." 

Little  Daffydowndilly  believed  what   his   com- 

20  panion  said,  but  was  very  glad,  nevertheless,  when 
they  were  out  of  sight  of  the  old  farmer,  who  bore 
such  a  singular  resemblance  to  Mr.  Toil.  The  two 
travelers  had  gone  but  little  farther  when  they 
came  to  a  spot  where  some  carpenters  were  erects 

25  ing  a  house.  Daffydowndilly  begged  his  compan- 
ion to  stop  a  moment,  for  it  was  a  very  pretty 


BOOK  FOUE  229 

sight  to  see  how  neatly  the  carpenters  did  their 
work,  with  their  broadaxes,  and  saws,  and  planes, 
and  hammers,  shaping  out  the  doors,  and  putting 
in  the  window  sashes,  and  nailing  on  the  clap- 
boards ;  and  he  could  not  help  thinking  that  he  s 
should  like  to  take  a  broadax,  a  saw,  a  plane,  and 
a  hammer,  and  build  a  little  house  for  himself. 
And  then,  when  he  should  have  a  house  of  his  own, 
old  Mr.  Toil  would  never  dare  to  molest  him  again. 

But  just  when  he  was  delighting  himself  with  lo 
this  idea,  little  Daffydowndilly  beheld  ^ojnething 
that  made  him  catch  hold  of  his  companion's  hand, 
all  in  a  fright. 

"  Make  haste !  Quick,  quick  !"  cried  he.  "  There 
he  is  again !  "  15 

"  Who  ?  "  asked  the  stranger,  very  quietly. 

"  Old  Mr.  Toil,"  said  Daffydowndilly,  trembling. 
"  There !  He  that  is  overseeing  the  carpenters. 
'T  is  my  old  schoolmaster,  as  sure  as  I  'm  alive." 

D  AFF  YDOWNDILLY  —  II 

The  stranger  cast  his  eyes  where  Daffydowndilly  20 
pointed  his  finger,  and  he  saw  an  elderly  man  with 
a    carpenter's   rule    and  compasses   in  his   hand. 
This  person  went  to  and  fro  about  the  unfinished 


230  THE  HILL  READERS 

house,  measuring  pieces  of  timber,  and  marking 
out  the  work  that  was  to  be  done,  and  continually 
urging  the  other  carpenters  to  be  diligent.  And 
wherever  he  turned  his  hard  and  wrinkled  visage 
5  the  men  seemed  to  feel  that  they  had  a  taskmaster 
over  them,  and  sawed,  and  hammered,  and  planed, 
as  if  for  dear  life. 

"  Oh,  no ;  this  is  not  Mr.  Toil,  the  schoolmaster,'' 
said  the  stranger.    "It  is  another  brother  of  his, 

10  who  follows  the  trade  of  carpenter." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  quoth  Daffydown- 
dilly ;  "  but  if  you  please,  sir,  I  should  like  to  get 
out  of  his  way  as  soon  as  possible." 

Then  they  went  on  a  little  farther,  and  soon 

15  heard  the  sound  of  a  drum  and  fife.  Dalfydown- 
dilly  pricked  up  his  ears  at  this,  and"  besought  his 
companion  to  hurry  forward  that  they  might  not 
miss  seeing  the  soldiers.  Accordingly  they  made 
what  haste  they  could,  and  soon  met  a  company 

20  of  soldiers,  gayly  dressed,  with  beautiful  feathers 
in  their  caps  and  bright  muskets  on  their  shoul- 
ders. In  front  marched  two  drummers  and  two 
fifers,  beating  on  their  drums  and  playing  on  their 
fifes  with  might  and  main,  and  making  such  lively 

25  music  that  little  Daffydowndilly  would  gladly  have 
followed  them  to  the  end  of  the  world.    And  if  he 


BOOK  FOUR  231 

was  only  a  soldier,  then,  he  said  to  himself,  old 
Mr.  Toil  would  surely  never  venture  to  look  him 
in  the  face. 

" Quick  step!  Forward,  march!"  shouted  a  loud, 
gruff  voice.  5 

Little  Daffydowndilly  started  in  great  dismay; 
for  this  voice  which  had  spoken  to  the  soldiers 
sounded  precisely  the  same  as  that  which  he  had 
heard  every  day  in  Mr.  Toil's  schoolroom,  out  of 
Mr.  Toil's  own  mouth.  And,  turning  his  eyes  to  10 
the  captain  of  the  company,  what  should,  he  see 
but  the  very  image  of  old  Mr.  Toil  himself,  with  a 
smart  cap  and  feather  on  his  head,  a  pair  of  gold 
epaulets  on  his  shoulders,  a  laced  coat  on  his  back, 
a  purple  sash  round  his  waist,  and  a  long  sword,  15 
instead  of  a  birch  rod,  in  his  hand.  And  though 
he  held  his  head  so  high,  and  strutted  like  a  turkey 
cock,  still  he  looked  quite  as  ugly  and  disagreeable 
as  when  he  was  hearing  lessons  in  the  schoolroom. 

"  This  is  certainly  old  Mr.   Toil,"   said  Daffy-  20 
downdilly  in  a  trembling  voice.    "  Let  us  run  away 
for  fear  he  should  make  us  enlist  in  his  company." 

"  You  are  mistaken   again,  my   little   friend," 
replied  the  stranger,  very  composedly.    "This  is 
not  Mr.  Toil,  the  schoolmaster,  but  a  brother  of  25 
his,  who  has  served  in  the  army  all  his  life.    People 


232  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

say  he's  a  terribly  severe  fellow;  but  you  and  I 
need  not  be  afraid  of  him." 

"Well,  well/'  said  little  Daffydowndilly ;  "but, 
if  you  please,  sir,  I  don't  want  to  see  the  soldiers 

5  any  more." 

So  the  child  and  the  stranger  resumed  their  jour- 
ney; and  by  and  by  they  came  to  a  house  by  the 
roadside,  where  a  number  of  people  were  making 
merry.    Young  men  and  rosy-cheeked  girls,  with 

10  smiles  on  their  faces,  were  dancing  to  the  sound 
of  a  fiddle.  It  was  the  pleasant  est  sight  that  Daffy- 
downdilly  had  yet  met  with,  and  it  comforted  him 
for  all  his  disappointments. 

"  Oh,  let  us  stop  here  !  "  cried  he  to  his  compan- 

15  ion ;  "  for  Mr.  Toil  will  never  dare  to  show  his 
face  where  there  is  a  fiddler,  and  where  people 
are  dancing  and  making  merry.  We  shall  be  quite 
safe  here." 

But  these  last  words  died  away  on  Daffydown- 

20  dilly's  tongue ;  for,  happening  to  cast  his  eyes  on 
the  fiddler,  whom  should  he  behold  again  but  the 
likeness  of  Mr.  Toil,  holding  a  fiddle  bow  instead 
of  a  birch  rod,  and  flourishing  it  with  as  much  ease 
and  skill  as  if  he  had  been  a  fiddler  all  his  life. 

25  He  had  somewhat  the  air  of  a  Frenchman,  but 
still  looked  exactly  like  the  old  schoohnaster ;  and 


BOOK  FOUR  233 

Daffydowndilly  even  fancied  that  he  nodded  and 
winked  at  him,  and  made  signs  for  him  to  join 
in  the  dance. 

"Oh  dear  me!"  whispered  he,  turning  pale.    "  It 
seems  as  if  there  was  nobody  but  Mr.  Toil  in  the    5 
world.     Who  could  have  thought  of  his  playing 
on  a  fiddle!" 

"This  is  not  your  old  schoolmaster,"  observed 
the  stranger,  "  but  another  brother  of  his,  who  was 
bred  in  France,  where  he  learned  the  profession  of  lo 
a  fiddler.  He  is  ashamed  of  his  family,  -and  gen- 
erally calls  himself  Monsieur  le  Plaisir;  but  his 
real  name  is  Toil,  and  those  who  have  known  him 
best  think  him  still  more  disagreeable  than  his 
brothers."  15 

"Pray  let  us  go  a  little  farther,"  said  Daffy- 
downdilly.   "  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  this  fiddler." 

Well,  thus  the  stranger  and  little  Daffydown- 
dilly  went  wandering  along  the  highway,  and  in 
shady  lanes,  and  through  pleasant  villages;  and  20 
whithersoever  they  went,  behold,  there  was  the 
image  of  old  Mr.  Toil !  He  stood  like  a  scarecrow 
in  the  cornfields.  If  they  entered  a  house,  he  sat  in 
the  parlor;  if  they  peeped  into  the  kitchen,  he 
was  there.  He  made  himself  at  home  in  every  cot-  25 
tage,  and  stole^  under  one  disguise  or  anotherj  into 


234  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

the  most  splendid  mansions.  Everywhere  there- 
was  sure  to  be  somebody  who  wore  the  likeness 
of  Mr.  Toil,  and  who,  as  the  stranger  affirmed,  was 
one  of  the  old  schoolmaster's  many  brethren. 

5  Little  Daffydowndilly  was  almost  tired  to  death, 
when  he  perceived  some  people  reclining  lazily  in 
a  shady  place  by  the  side  of  the  road.  The  poor 
child  entreated  his  companion  that  they  might  sit 
down  there  and  take  &ome  repose. 

10  "  Old  Mr.  Toil  will  never  come  here,"  said  he ; 
"  for  he  hates  to  see  people  taking  their  ease." 

But  even  while  he  spoke  Daffy  do  wndilly's  eyes 
fell  upon  a  person  who  seemed  the  laziest,  and 
heaviest,  and  most  torpid  of  all  those  lazy  and 

15  heavy  and  torpid  people  who  had  lain  down  to 
sleep  in  the  shade.  Who  should  it  be  again  but 
the  'very  image  of  Mr.  Toil ! 

"There  is  a  large  family  of  these  Toils,"  re- 
marked the  stranger.    "  This  is  another  of  the  old 

20  schoolmaster's  brothers,  who  was  bred  in  Italy, 
where  he  acquired  very  idle  habits,  and  goes  by 
the  name  of  Signor  Far  Niente.  He  pretends  to 
lead  an  easy  life,  but  is  really  the  most  miserable 
fellow  in  the  family." 

25  "  Oh,  take  me  back  !  take  me  back  !  "  cried  poor 
little    Daffy downdilly,   bursting    into    tears.    "  If 


BOOK  FOUR  235 

there  is  nothing  but  Toil  all  the  world  over,  I 
may  just  as  well  go  back  to  the  schoolhouse." 

"Yonder  it  is;  there  is  the  schoolhouse,"  said 
the  stranger  ;  for  though  he  and  little  Daffydown-     • 
dilly  had   taken  a   great   many  steps,  they  had    5 
traveled  in   a   circle   instead   of   a   straight  line. 
"  Come ;  we  will  go  back  to  school  together." 

There  was  something  in  his  companion's  voice 
that  little  Daffydowndilly  now  remembered;  and 
it  is  strange  that  he  had  not  remembered  it  sooner.  10 
Looking  up  into  his  face,  behold,  there  again  was 
the  likeness  of  old  Mr.  Toil!  So  that  the  poor 
child  had  been  in  company  with  Toil  all  day,  even 
while  he  was  doing  his  best  to  run  away  from 
him.  Some  people,  to  whom  I  have  told  little  15 
Daffy downdilly's  story,  are  of  opinion  that  old 
Mr.  Toil  was  a  magician  and  possessed  the  power 
of  multiplying  himself  into  as  many  shapes  as  he 
saw  fit. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  little  Daffydowndilly  -had  20 
learned  a  good  lesson,  and  from  that  time  forward 
was  diligent  at  his  task,  because  he  knew  that 
diligence  is  not  a  whit  more  toilsome  than,  sport  or 
idleness.  And  when  he  became  better  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Toil  he  began  to  think  that  his  ways  25 
were  not  so  very  disagreeable,  and  that  the  old 


236  THE  HILL  READERS 

schoolmaster's  smile  of  approval  made  his  face  al- 
most as  pleasant  as  that  of  Daffydowndilly's  mother. 

affirmed:  said. — sedate:  calm  and  staid.  —  besought:  begged. 
—  Monsieur  le  Plaisir  :  Mr.  Pleasure.  —  Signor  Far  Niente  :  Mr. 
Do-Nothing. 

HOPE 

Irwin  Russell 

Irwin  Russell  (1853-1878)  was  born  in  Port  Gibson,  Mis- 
sissippi, and  educated  at  Washington  University,  St.  Louis.    He 
5  was,  by  special  act  of  the  legislature  of  Mississippi,  admitted  to 
the  bar  of  that  state  when  he  was  only  nineteen  years  old.    He 
died  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-five. 

Russell  was  a  clever  caricaturist,  a  musican,  a  lover  of  nature, 
and  a  constant  student  of  poetry.    He  was  one  of  the  first  of  our 
10  writers  to  use  the  negro  dialect  in  verse. 

No  matter  where  we  sail 

A  storm  may  come  to  wreck  us, 
A  bitter  wind  to  check  us 

In  the  quest  for  unknown  lands, 
15  And  cast  us  on  the  sands. 

No  matter  where  we  sail. 

Still  in  spite  of  storm. 

From  all  we  feel  or  fear 
.    A  rescue  may  be  near : 
20  Though  tempests  blow  their  best, 

A  manly  heart  can  rest 
Still,  in  spite  of  storm. 


BOOK  FOUE 


237 


THE  COMING  OF  ARTHUR 

Frances  Nimmo  Greene 

Frances  Nimmo  Greene,  an  American  author,  lives  in 
Montgomery,  Alabama.  Her  Ring  Arthur  and  His  Court  gives  an 
interesting  account  of  the  knightly  legend  which  has  been  so 
famous  in  our  literature. 


Who  should  be  king  save  him  who  makes  us  free?         5 

Tennyson 

When  Uther  Pendragon  was  king  in  Britain 
there  lived  in  that  country  a  wonderful  magician 
named  Merlin.     Now  this  Merlin,  though  not  a 


238  THE  HILL  EEADEKS 

bad  man,  was  at  one  time  persuaded  to  help  the 
king  do  an  evil  deed.  In  return  for  tliis  help 
Merlin  exacted  a  promise  from  Uther  that  when 
a  son  should   be  born   to   the   king,  he,  Merlin, 

5  should  be  allowed  to  have  the  child  and  rear  him 
as  he  shpjild  choose. 

The  magician  could  read  the  future,  and  of 
course  knew  that  a  little  prince  would  be  born. 
He  also  knew  that  the  king  would  die  shortly, 

10  and  that  great  dangers  awaited  his  heir.    Maybe 

the  old  magician  made  Uther  promise  to  give  the 

future  prince  to  him  that  he  might  protect  the  lad 

in  his  tender  years  and  prepare  him  to  be  king. 

Time  passed  on,  and  a  son  was   born  to  the 

15  king ;  but  instead  of  the  little  prince's  birth  being 
received  with  rejoicings  by  a  glad  people,  the  infant 
heir  to  the  proudest  throne  in  Britain  was  slipped 
by  night  out  of  the  castle  gates  and  given  to  Merlin 
to  be  carried  away;  and  nobody  was  told  that  a 

20  future  king  had  come  into  the  world. 

King  Uther  trusted  Merlin.  He  believed  that 
the  mighty  magician  would  care  for  his  son,  and 
would  in  time  bring  Arthur  (for  so  the  child  was 
named)  to  the  throne  which  was  rightfully  his. 

25  And  Merlin  proved  worthy,  of  that  trust.  He  gave 
the  child  to  a  good  old  knight,  Sir  Anton,  to  rear. 


BOOK  FOUR  239 

and  himself  watched  over  the  boy  through  all  the 
days  which  followed. 

Nor  was  Merlin's  the  only  hand  that  guided  the 
steps  of  Arthur's  youth.    There  came  to  the  child 
from  time  to  time  three  beautiful,  mysterious  queens,    5 
who  taught  him  many  wonderful  things. 

But  greatest  among  all  the  friends  of  his  boy- 
hood was  the  Lady  of  the  Lake.  No  mere  mortal 
was  she,  but  a  mystic  being  who  dwelt  down  in 
the  blue  depths  of  the  lake.  lo 

When  Uther  Pendragon  died  the  unhappy  land 
was  for  many  years  ravaged  by  rival  knights, 
each  of  whom  struggled  to  make  himself  king 
It  was  during  this  dark  period  that  Arthur,  all 
unconscious  of  his  kingly  origin,  grew  up  to  15 
splendid  manhood ;  grew  up  to  catch  the  sunlight 
of  a  brighter  day  in  his  tresses,  and  the  blue  truth 
of  heaven  in  his  eyes.  And  no  man  save  Merlin 
knew  him  to  be  King  Uther' s  son. 

Once,  when  Arthur  and  MerHn  were  walking  20 
along  the  shore,  the  young  prince  complained  that 
he  had  no  weapon ;  when  suddenly  from  out  the 
bosom  of  the  lake  there  rose  a  mighty  arm,  holding 
a  splendid  sword.  Arthur  rowed  across  and  took 
the  brand.  When  he  examined  the  bright,  jew-  25 
eled  hilt  he  found  written  on  one  side,  ^'^Take 


240  THE  HILL  READERS 

me";  but  when  he  turned  the  other  side  he  read, 
"  Cast  me  away."  And  his  face  was  very  sad  till 
Merlin  said,  "Take  thou  and  strike;  the  time  to 
cast  away  is  yet  far  off."  Arthur  took  the  sword 
5  and  called  its  name  "  Excalibur  "  (cut  steel). 

Now^  when  the  time  was  ripe  for  Arthur  to  be 

declared  king,  Merlin  advised  the  quarreling  lords 

and  barons  to  gather  together  on  a  certain  day  in 

the  largest  church  in  London,  to  see  if  God  would 

10  not  show  them  who  should  be  king. 

The  people  respected  and  feared  the  old  magician ; 
so  at  his  suggestion  a  mighty  concourse  gathered 
on  the  day  appointed,  to  wait  for  a  sign  from  God. 

When  mass  was  ended,  lo !  Merlin  stood  before 
15  them  with  Arthur  at  his  side.  He  placed  the  young 
prince  on  a  high  seat  and  proclaimed  to  the  people, 
"  Here  is  Uther's  heir,  your  king  !  " 

Then  were  loud  shouts  of  denial,  and  a  hundred 
voices  cried :  "Away  with  him !  No  king  of  ours ! " 
20  But  Merlin  by  his  magic  caused  Arthur  to  be 
crowned,  and  as  "  the  savage  yells  of  Uther's  peer- 
age died,"  Arthur's  warriors  cried,  "  Be  thou  the 
king,  and  we  who  love  thee  will  work  thy  will !  " 
Then  the  people  went  down  on  their  knees;  and, 
25  lifting  up  their  eyes,  they  beheld  a  sight  so  fair 
and  wonderful  that  a  hush  fell  upon  the  throng. 


BOOK  FOUR  241 

In  the  center  of  the  dais  sat  the  fair-haired  king. 
Through  the  casement  above  him  three  rays  of  light 
—  flame-color,  green,  and  azure  —  fell  upon  three 
fair  queens  who  had  silently  taken  their  places  about 
him.  No  one  knew  whence  they  had  come ;  but  5 
they  were  ever  by  Arthur's  side  in  time  of  need. 

MerHn,  the  enchanter,  stood  beside  him;  and 
also  near  the  king,  "  clothed  in  white  samite, 
mystic,  wonderful,"  was  the  Lady  of  the  Lake. 

Those  who  were  truest  and  best,  the  flower  of  lo 
Britain's  chivalry,  crowded  about  the  king  on  his 
coronation  day  and  desired  that  he  knight  them 
with  his  wonderful  sword,  Excalibur.  As  Arthur 
looked  upon  them  his  own  truth  and  purity  seemed 
mirrored  in  their  faces.  15 

In  low,  deep  tones  the  young  king  administered 
to  them  the  oath  of  knighthood.  So  sacred  and 
so  exalted  were  the  vows  which  he  required  of 
them  that,  when  they  arose  from  their  knees,  their 
faces  bore  witness  to  the  solemnity  of  the  cere-  20 
mony.  Some  were  deadly  pale,  some  flushed,  and 
others  dazed,  "  as  one  who  wakes  half  blinded  at 
the  coming  of  a  light." 

mystic :  mysterious.  —  brand :  sword,  —  concourse  :  crowd.  — 
dais:  raised  platform.  —  samite:  a  kind  of  silk  cloth. 


242  THE  HILL  READERS 

FAIRY  SONG 

William  Shakespeare 

William  Shakespeare,  the  greatest  of  English  poets,  was 
born  in  Stratford-on-Avon  in  1564.  Stratford  was  then  a  town  of 
about  fourteen  hundred  inhabitants. 

His  father,  John  Shakespeare,  was,  during  the  early  years  of 

5  the  poet's  life,  a  prosperous  man.     He  made  and  sold  gloves, 

farmed  land,  and,  although  he  probably  could  not  sign  his  own 

name,  held  high  offices  in  the  town  government.     The  poet's 

mother,  Mary  Arden,  came  of  good  family  and  was  a  landowner. 

William  was  the  oldest  son.    He  no  doubt  went  to  the  free 

10  grammar  school  of  the  town.     There  he  was  in  all  probability 

taught  not  only  English  but  some  Latin  and  perhaps  a  little 

Greek.    Later  he  may  have  studied  French  and  possibly  Italian. 

About  the  time  that  Shakespeare  was  thirteen  or  fourteen 

years  old  his  father  lost  most  of  his  property.    As  Shakespeare, 

15  now  a  bright,  stirring,  intelligent  lad,  was  the  eldest  of  the  chil- 
dren, he  no  doubt  had  to  quit  school  and  help  his  family  in  some 
way.  What  he  did  to  lighten  the  household  load  is  not  known. 
Some  say  that  he  was  a  butcher's  boy,  others  that  he  taught  a 
country  school,  still  others  that  he  worked  in  a  lawyer's  office. 

20  We  know,  however,  that  in  his  nineteenth  year  he  married 
Anne  Hathaway,  who  was  eight  years  older  than  her  boy  hus- 
band. His  first  child,  Susanna,  was  baptized  in  1583.  Twin 
children,  Hamnet  and  Judith,  were  born  in  1585.  A  few  years 
later  Shakespeare  went  to  London  to  seek  his  fortune.    There  he 

25  lived  until  about  1610.    His  family  remained  in  Stratford  during 

these  years,  but  he  seems  to  have  visited  them  at  regular  intervals. 

In  his  new  home  he  became  an  actor,  a  writer  of  plays,  and 

part  owner  of  a  theater.    After  a  time  he  stood  foremost  among 

the  gifted  playwriters  of  his  day.    He  saved  money  and  invested 

30  it  in  his  native  town.  A  few  years  before  his  death  he  returned 
to  Stratford  and  lived  in  ease  and  comfort.    He  died  in  1616. 


BOOK  FOUR 


243 


As  long  as  men  read  anything  they  will  read  Lear  and  Hamlet^ 
As  You  Like  It  and  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  and  Shakespeare's 
great  historical  plays. 


Over  hill,  over  dale, 

Thorough  bush,  thorough  brier, 
Over  park,  over  pale, 

Thorough  flood,  thorough  fire, 
I  do  wander  every  where. 
Swifter  than  the  moon's  sphere ; 
And  I  serve  the  fairy  queen, 
To  dew  her  orbs  upon  the -green. 
The  cowslips  tall  her  pensioners  be : 
In  their  gold  coats  spots  you  see ; 
Those  be  rubies,  fairy  favors, 
^  In  those  freckles  live  their  savors  : 

I  must  go  seek  some  dewdrops  here 
And  hang  a  pearl  in  every  cowslip's  ear. 

thorough  :  through.  —  pale  :  inclosure.  —  sphere  :  orbit  or 
course.  —  orbs:  rings  or  fairy  circles. —  pensioners:  bodyguard. 
Queen  Elizabeth's  gentlemen  attendants  wore  much  gold  lace  on 
their  coats. 


10 


15 


244  THE  HILL  READERS 

CHRIMHILDE'S  TREASURES 

Margaret  Junkin  Preston 

Margaret  Junkin  Preston  (1820-1897),  a  gifted  American 
poet,  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  but  spent  most  of  her  life  in  the 
historic  town  of  Lexington,  Virginia.  She  was  the  daughter  of 
Reverend  George  Junkin,  founder  of  Lafayette  College,  and  for 
5  many  years  president  of  Washington  College  (now  Washington 
and  Lee  University).  She  married  Colonel  J.  T.  L.  Preston,  a 
professor  in  the  Virginia  Military  Institute.  Mrs.  Preston  died 
at  the  home  of  her  son  in  Baltimore. 

Count  Conrad  sate  in  his  castle  tower, 
10       And  leaned  his  head  on  his  mailed  hands, 
As  he  gazed  below  on  the  leaguer ing  foe 

Who  battered  his  walls  and  spoiled  his  lands. 

"  I  can  do  no  more :  not  a  crust  is  left ; 
My  men  lie  starved  by  the  donjon  keep ; 
15  Sweet  Chrimhilde  alone  gives  forth  no  groan. 
As  she  rocks  her  boy  on  her  breast  asleep. 

"  If  they  were  but  saved  !  "  and  as  he  sighed, 

He  heard  her  low  footstep  on  the  stair ; 
And  his  stout  heart  bled  as  he  turned  his  head 
20      To  hide  the  trace  of  his  blank  despair. 

There  gleamed  a  hope  in  her  sunken  eye 

As  she  dropped  at  his  side  with  a  gesture  fond, 


BOOK  FOUR  245 

And  sought,  in  a  way  that  would  bide  no  nay, 
For  leave  to  pass  to  the  hosts  beyond. 

"  Our  archers  perish :  bare  ten  are  left. 
And  strengthless  they,  to  draw  the  bow; 

But,  if  we  must  yield,  give  me  thy  shield,  5 

Nor  question  the  errand  on  which  I  go. 

"  I  '11  seek  the  besieger  in  his  camp, 
And  hither  will  haste  with  his  reply : 

Thine  honor,  be  sure,  is  well  secure 

With  her  who  would  live  for  thee,  or  die."        lo 

The  Count  looked  up  with  a  vacant  air. 
As  the  slow  nay  rose  to  his  lips  so  wan ; 

And  he  flung  his  arm  as  to  clasp  from  harm 
The  tender  pleader,  but  —  she  was  gone. 

And,  ere  he  could  order  his  wildered  thought,       is 
The  postern  opened  and  closed  again ; 

And  he  saw,  in  affright,  with  pennon  white. 
His  Chrimhilde  glide  o'er  the  tented  plain. 

"  By  the  pity  of  God,  your  grace  I "  she  cried, 
And  on  unchallenged  her  way  she  went,  20 

All  weak  as  she  was,  till  her  step  had  pause 
In  front  of  the  startled  chieftain's  tent. 


246  THE  HILL  READERS 

And  stately  she  stood  as  stands  a  queen 
Who  sovranlj  makes  her  mandates  known : 

"  I  have  come  to  yield  this  dinted  shield, 
Sir  Baron,  if  thou  the  terms  will  own. 

5  "  Count  Conrad's  castles  shall  hence  be  thine, 
If  out  of  the  garrison's  chosen  men. 
Who  have  nobly  fought  as  the  noblest  ought. 
Thou  passest  in  freedom  only  ten. 

^^  Count  Conrad's  riches  shall  fill  thine  hands, 
10      If  forth  thou  grantest  me  leave  to  take 
Some  treasures  I  hold  priced  over  gold  : 

Now  promise  it,  for  thy  knighthood's  sake ! " 

The  Baron  all  dazed  by  her  royal  mien. 
And  awed  by  her  beauty,  nothing  loth 
15  To  answer  a  prayer  so  seeming  fair, 

Swore  on  the  battered  shield  his  oath. 

''And  now,  my  treasures  —  they  are  but  twain, 

Husband  and  child  —  thou  grantest  so  ?  " 
She  paused  :  for  reply,  in  the  Baron's  eye 
20      There  sparkled  a  tear,  as  he  bade  her  go. 

leaguering :  laying  siege.  —  donjon  (dfin'jtin)  keep :  the  strongest 
part  of  a  castle. — postern:  small  gate.  —  mandate:  command. 
—  mien:  bearing. 


BOOK  FOUR  247 

HIS  WINGS  AND  TAIL 

Olive  Thorne  Miller 

Harriet  Mann  Miller  (1831-  ),  who  has  made  her 
pen  name  of  "  Olive  Thorne  Miller  "  familiar  to  a  generation 
of  young  readers,  is  a  New  York  naturalist  and  lecturer  on  birds. 

Among  her  popular  books  are  Little  Folks  in  Feathers  and  Fur, 
Queer  Pets  at  Marcy's,  First  Book  of  Birds,  Bird  Ways,  and  Our     5 
Home  Pets. 

A  bird's  wing  does  not  look  much  like  a  human 
arm  and  hand,  yet  the  bones  of  each  show  that 
they  are  the  same.  The  bird  has  a  shoulder,  elbow, 
and  wrist,  just  as  we  have.  He  even  has  fingers,  lo 
though  they  are  so  covered  by  feathers  that  one 
would  never  know  of  their  existence  unless  told  of 
them.  The  bird  has  not  so  many  fingers  as  we 
have  and  they  are  not  movable  as  ours  are. 

A  bird's  wing  is  a  wonderful  flying  machine,  is 
which  men  have  been  trying  to  imitate  these  many 
years.  It  is  made  of  long,  stiff  feathers,  which  fold 
down  smoothly  over  one  another  at  his  side  when 
he  is  resting,  but  which  can  be  spread  in  an  instant 
into  a  broad  fan  to  beat  the  air  and  carry  him  away.  20 

One  would  not  think  that  feathers  could  have  so 
much  power,  but  when  the  wing  is  spread  the  barbs 
of  the  feathers  hook  together  with  tiny  hooks  so 


248  THE  HILL  KEADEKS 

small  that  a  microscope  is  needed  to  see  them. 

This   hooking,  aided  by  the   overlapping  of   the 

edges  of  the  feathers,  makes  the  wing  almost  one 

solid  surface. 
5      Wings  are  not  alike  in  shape.    The  wing  of  a 

swallow  is  long  and  narrow,  while  that  of  a  grouse 

is  short  and  round.    We  can  tell  by  the  shape  of 

the  wing  how  the  bird  flies. 

A  short,  round  wing  shows  that  a  bird  has  a 
10  strong  flight  for  short  distances.    These  wings  are 

found  mostly  on  heavy  birds  like  grouse. 

Water  birds  such  as  the  petrel  and  the  frigate 

bird  have  the  longest  wings.    On  the  other  hand, 

the    shortest   wings,  also,  are   found   among  the 
15  water  birds.     These  are  found  on  such  birds  as 

the  auks,  birds  that  swim  more  than  they  fly. 
All  the  feathers  of  the  wing  are  named,  and 

it  will  be  well  to  remember  that  the  long,  stiff 

quills  are  called  remiges,  or  "rowers."    These  are 
20  firmly  rooted  in  the  flesh  and  are  the  hardest  to 

pull  out.    They  are  of  the  utmost  importance  to 

the  safety  of  the  bird. 

Birds  have  another  use  for  their  wings.    They 

are  strong  weapons  with  which  either  to  defend 
25  themselves  or  to  fight  enemies.    A  large  bird  can 

give   a   severe   blow  with  its    wing,   and    when 


BOOK  FOUR  249 

pigeons  fight,  it  is  said  that  they  hold  up  one 
wing  to  protect  themselves,  while  with  the  other 
they  strike  at  their  enemy. 

Sometimes  wings  serve  as  musical  instruments. 
Woodcocks  make  whistling  sounds  with  their  5 
wings  as  they  fly,  and  mourning  doves  give  out  a 
softly  murmuring  noise  with  theirs.  Ruffed  grouse 
produce  with  theirs  a  rolling,  drumlike  sound,  and 
other  birds  rattle  theirs  like  castanets. 

If  wings  are  not  used,  they  slowly  become  10 
smaller  and  weaker.  Each  generation  of  thirds  not 
-using  its  wings  finds  them  more  and  more  useless, 
until  after  a  time  the  wings  are  forceless  and  the 
birds  cannot  fly  at  all.  This  has  happened,  it  is 
supposed,  to  the  ostrich  family  and  to  some  birds  15 
living  in  iiie  sea. 

The  tail  of  a  bird  is  formed  of  an  equal  number 
of  feathers  arranged  in  pairs.    The  number  of  pairs 
is  most  often  twelve.    When  spread  the  tail  feath- 
ers are  shaped  like  a  fan,  but  when  closed  they  lie  20 
over  one  another  with  the  middle  pair  on  top. 

The  tail  feathers  are  not  always  of  the  same 
length,    and   this   difference    in    length   makes   a 
difference  in  the  shape  of   the   end   of   the  tail. 
Sometimes  the  feathers  are  even ;   then  the  tail  25 
is  called  square.     Sometimes  the  middle  feathers 


250  THE  HILL  EEADEKS 

are  longer  than  the  outside  ones,  and  then  the  tail 
is  said  to  be  rounded  or  pointed.  If  the  outside 
feathers  are  longest,  the  tail  is  forked. 

The  feathers  of  the  tail  are  called  rectrices,  or 

5  "  rudders,"  because  they  are  supposed  to  be  used 
to  steer  or  to  direct  the  bird's  course  in  flying. 
The  tail  is  also  used  as  a  brake  to  check  the  speed 
in  alighting. 

The  tail  is  used  more  than  any  other  organ  to 

10  express  the  emotions.  Some  birds,  like  the  catbird 
and  the  thrasher,  keep  their  tails  moving  all  the 
time,  jerking  them  this  way  and  that,  and  tossing, 
them  upward. 

The  tail  feathers  of  woodpeckers  and  swifts  are 

15  not  soft  at  the  end  as  are  those  of  other  birds. 
In  these  birds  the  stems  or  shafts  of  the  tail 
feathers  project  beyond  the  feathery  part  and  are 
stiff  like  the  tail  of  the  sapsucker,  or  sharp  like 
that  of  the  chimney  swift.    These  birds  use  their 

20  tails  as  props  to  hold  them  against  the  tree  trunk 
or  chimney  wall,  and  to  help  them  in  climbing. 

Tail  feathers  are  not  so  strongly  rooted  as  wing 
feathers,  and  are  easily  pulled  out.  Sometimes 
when  a  man  or  boy  tries  to  catch  a  bird  by  the 

26  tail,  the  bird  will  escape,  leaving  the  tail  in  the 
hands  of  the  would-be  captor. 


BOOK  FOUR  251 

EVENING  AT  THE  FARM 

John  Townsend  Trowbridge 

John  Townsend  Trowbridge  (1827-  ),  an  American 
poet  and  novelist,  was  born  in  Ogden,  New  York.  He  lived  on 
a  farm  until  he  was  seventeen  years  old.  Being  ambitious  and 
bright,  he  taught  himself  Latin,  Greek,  and  French,  and  kept 
up  his  other  studies  at  school.  For  some  years  he  united  the  5 
occupations  of  teacher  and  farmer.  In  1874  he  went  to  New 
York  to  do  newspaper  work.  In  1878  he  moved  to  Boston,  and 
since  that  time  has  been  actively  engaged  in  editing  and  con- 
tributing to  magazines  and  papers. 

The  Vagabonds,  The  Charcoal  Man,  and  Farmer  Johfi  represent  10 
Mr.  Trowbridge's  best  poetical  work.    In  prose  The  Two  Biddl- 
cutt  Boys,  The  Drummer  Boy,  and  many  others  have  made  his 
name  familiar  to  a  wide  circle  of  young  readers. 

Over  the  hill  the  farm-boj  goes, 

His  shadow  lengthens  along  the  land,        is 
A  giant  staff  in  a  giant  hand. 
In  the  poplar-tree,  about  the  spring. 
The  katydid  begins  to  sing ; 

The  early  dews  are  falling ; 
Into  the  stone  heap  darts  the  mink ;  20 

The  swallows  skim  the  river's  brink ; 
And  home  to  the  woodland  fly  the  crows. 
When  over  the  hill  the  farm-boy  goes, 

Cheerily  calling, 


Uneerily  calling, 

"  Co',  boss  !  co',  boss !  co' !  co' ! 


25 


252  THE  HILL  REABEKS 

Farther,  farther,  over  the  hill, 
Faintly  calling,  calling  still, 

"  Co',  boss !  co',  boss  !  co' !  co' !  " 

Into  the  yard  the  farmer  goes, 
5      With  grateful  heart,  at  the  close  of  day ; 
Harness  and  chain  are  hung  away ; 
In  the  wagon-shed  stand  yoke  and  plow ; 
The  straw  's  in  the  stack,  the  hay  in  the  mow. 
The  cooling  dews  are  falling : 
10      The  friendly  sheep  his  welcome  bleat, 
The  pigs  come  grunting  to  his  feet. 
The  whinnying  mare  her  master  knows, 
When  into  the  yard  the  farmer  goes, 
His  cattle  calling : 
15  "  Co',  boss  !  co',  boss  !  co' !  co' !  co' !  " 

While  still  the  cow-boy,  far  away. 
Goes  seeking  those  that  have  gone  astray  — 
^^  Co',  boss!  co',  boss!  co' !  co' !  " 

Now  to  her  task  the  milkmaid  goes, 
20      The  cattle  come  crowding  through  the  gate. 
Lowing,  pushing,  little  and  great ; 
About  the  trough,  by  the  farm-yard  pump. 
The  frolicsome  yearlings  frisk  and  jump, 
While  the  pleasant  dews  are  falling : 


253 


254  THE  HILL  READERS 

The  new-milch  heifer  is  quick  and  shy, 
But  the  old  cow  waits  with  tranquil  eye, 
And  the  white  stream  into  the  bright  pail  flows, 
When  to  her  task  the  milkmaid  goes, 
5  Soothingly  calling, 

"  So,  boss  !  so,  boss  !  so  !  so  !  so  !  " 
The  cheerful  milkmaid  takes  her  stool. 
And  sits  and  milks  in  the  twilight  cool, 

Saying,  '^  So  !  so,  boss  !  so  !  so  !  " 

10      To  supper  at  last  the  farmer  goes. 
The  apples  are  pared,  the  paper  read, 
The  stories  are  told,  then  all  to  bed. 
Without,  the  cricket's  ceaseless  song 
Makes  shrill  the  silence  all  night  long ; 

15  The  heavy  dews  are  falling. 

The  housewife's  hand  has  turned  the  lock ; 
Drowsily  ticks  the  kitchen  clock ; 
The  household  sinks  to  deep  repose. 
But  still  in  sleep  the  farm-boy  goes 

20  Singing,  calling  — 

"  Co',  boss  !  co',  boss  !  co' !  co' !  co' !  " 
And  *oft  the  milkmaid,  in  her  dreams. 
Drums  in  the  pail  with  the  flashing  streams, 
Murmuring,  "  So,  boss  !  so  !  " 


BOOK  FOUR  255 

THE  HERITAGE 

James  Eussell  Lowell 

'James  Russell  Lowell  (1819-1891)  was  born  in  Cambridge, 
Massachusetts,  and  most  of  his  life  was  spent  in  that  university 
town.  He  was  graduated  from  the  academic  department  of  Har- 
vard University  in  1838,  and  from  the  law  department  in  1840. 
For  a  few  years  after  graduation  he  practiced  law  and  wrote  for  5 
the  magazines.  As  soon,  however,  as  his  pen  earned  a  scanty 
support  he  closed  his  law  office. 

In  1855  he  succeeded  Longfellow  as  professor  of  modern 
languages  in  Harvard.  Like  most  men  of  genius,  Lowell  was  a 
tireless  worker.  According  to  George  William  Curtis,  he  often  10 
worked  fourteen  hours  a  day.  To  his  duties  as  teacher  he  added 
editorial  work, — ^^being  editor  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly  for  four 
years,  and  one  of  the  editors  of  the  the  North  American  Review 
for  nine  years. 

In  1877  he  was  sent  as  United  States  Minister  to  succeed  15 
Caleb  Cushing  at  the  court  of  Spain.  In  1880  he  was  trans- 
ferred to  London  as  minister  to  England.  Here  Lowell's  per- 
sonal charm,  combined  with  his  ready  humor,  unusual  learning, 
and  power  as  a  talker  and  as  a  speaker,  made  him  a  social  favor- 
ite. His  four  years  of  successful  diplomatic  service  did  much  20 
to  bind  closer  the  ties  of  friendship  between  England  and  Arner- 
ica.  Six  years  after  his  return  from  England  he  died  at  his 
beautiful  home  in  Cambridge. 

Lowell,  in  his  many-sidedness,  is  one  of  our  greatest  men  of 
letters.    He  was  delightful  as  a  letter  writer,  a  critic  whose  criti-  25 
cisms  themselves  are  literature,  a  public  man  with  large  and 
healthful  views,  an  orator  fresh  and  vigorous,  and  a  poet  rich  in 
imagination  and  culture. 

The  rich  man's  son  inherits  lands, 

And  piles  of  brick  and  stone,  and  gold,      30 


256  THE  HILL  READERS 

And  he  inherits  soft  white  hands, 

And  tender  flesh  that  fears  the  cold, 
Nor  dares  to  wear  a  garment  old ; 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
5       One  scarce  would  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

The  rich  man's  son  inherits  cares ; 

The  bank  may  break,  the  factory  burn, 
A  breath  may  burst  his  bubble  shares. 

And  soft  white  hands  could  hardly  earn 
10  A  living  that  would  serve  his  turn ; 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me. 
One  scarce  would  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

The  rich  man's  son  inherits  wants. 

His  stomach  craves  for  dainty  fare ; 
15      With  sated  heart,  he  hears  the  pants 

Of  toiling  hinds  with  brown  arms  bare, 
And  wearies  in  his  easy-chair ; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
One  scarce  would  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

20      What  doth  the  poor  man's  son  inherit  ? 
Stout  muscles  and  a  sinewy  heart, 
A  hardy  frame,  a  hardier  spirit ; 

King  of  two  hands,  he  does  his  part 
In  every  useful  toil  and  art ; 


BOOK  FOUR  257 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

What  doth  the  poor  man's  son  inherit  ? 

Wishes  o'er  joyed  with  humble  things, 
A  rank  adjudged  by  toil-won  merit,  s 

Content  that  from  employment  springs, 

A  heart  that  in  his  labor  sings ; 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

What  doth  the  poor  man's  son  inherit  ?  lo 

A  patience  learned  of  being  poor, 

Courage,  if  sorrow  come,  to  bear  it, 
A  fellow-feeling  that  is  sure 
To  make  the  outcast  bless  his  door ; 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me,  is 

A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

0  rich  man's  son !  there  is  a  toil 

That  with  all  others  level  stands ; 

Large  charity  doth  never  soil, 

But  only  whiten,  soft  white  hands ;  20 

This  is  the  best  crop  from  thy  lands, 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

Worth  being  rich  to  hold  in  fee. 


258 


THE  HILL  BEADEKS 


0  poor  man's  son  !  scorn  not  thy  state  ; 
There  is  worse  weariness  than  thine, 

In  merely  being  rich  and  great ; 

Toil  only  gives  the  soul  to  shine, 
And  makes  rest  fragrant  and  benign ; 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

Worth  being  poor  to  hold  in  fee. 


10 


Both,  heirs  to  some  six  feet  of  sod. 
Are  equal  in  the  earth  at  last ; 

Both,  children  of  the  same  dear  God, 
Prove  title  to  your  heirship  vast 
By  record  of  a  well-filled  past ; 

A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 

Well  worth  a  life  to  hold  in  fee. 


heritage  :  property  or  possessions  handed  down  from  one  gen- 
eration to  another. — to  hold  in  fee:  to  possess.  —  sated:  sur- 
feited. —  hinds  :  peasants,  servants.  —  benign:  kindly. 


Slill  [1 

Z^  'A  :'ir- 1 

Wm!' 

rts" 

VI 

m^^^ 

ffw-^ywiifnim 

p 

^ 

BOOK  FOUR  259 

A  MESSAGE  TO  GARCIA 

Elbert  Hubbard 

Elbert  Hubbard  (1859-  ),  author  and  journalist,  was 
born  in  Bloomington,  Illinois.  He  was  educated  in  the  public 
schools.  In  1876  he  went  into  journalism ;  in  1894  he  founded 
and  became  the  editor  of  The  Philistine,  published  in  East  Aurora, 
Xew  York.  He  is  also  proprietor  of  the  Koycroft  Shop,  noted  5 
for  its  handsome  and  well-made  editions  of  classic  writers,  and 
for  its  profit-sharing  arrangements. 

Mr.   Hubbard   was    a   newspaper   correspondent   during   the 
Spanish-American  War. 

In  all  this  Cuban  business  there  is  one  man  lo 
who  stands  foremost  in  my  memory.  When  war 
broke  out  between  Spain  and  the  United  States, 
it  was  very  necessary  to  communicate  quickly  with 
the  leader  of  the  insurgents.  Garcia  was  some- 
where in  the  mountains  of  Cuba  —  no  one  knew  i5 
where.  No  mail  nor  telegraph  message  could  reach 
him.  The  President  must  secure  his  help,  and 
quickly. 

What  to  do ! 

Some  one  said  to  the   President,  "  There  is  a  20 
fellow  by  the  name  of  Rowan  who  will  find  Garcia 
for  you,  if  anybody  can." 

Rowan  was  sent  for  and  given  a  letter  to  be 
delivered  to  Garcia. 


260  THE  HILL  READERS 

How  "the  fellow  by  the  name  of  Rowan"  took 
the  letter,  sealed  it  up  in  an  oilskin  pouch,  strapped 
it  over  his  heart,  in  four  days  landed  by  night  off 
the  coast  of  Cuba  from  an  open  boat,  disappeared 

5  into  the  jungle,  and  in  three  weeks  came  out  on 
the  other  side  of  the  island,  having  traversed  a 
hostile  country  on  foot  and  delivered  his  letter  to 
Garcia  are  things  I  have  no  special  desire  now 
to  tell  in  detail.    The  point  that  I  wish  to  make  is 

10  this  :  McKinley  gave  Rowan  a  letter  to  be  delivered 
to  Garcia;  Rowan  took  the  letter  and  did  not  ask, 
.^^ Where  is  he  at?" 

There  is  a  man  whose  form  should  be  cast  in 
deathless  bronze  and  the  statue  placed  in  every 

15  college  of  the  land  !  It  is  not  book  learning  young 
men  need,  nor  instruction  about  this  and  that,  but 
a  stiffening  of  the  backbone  which  will  cause  them 
to  be  loyal  to  a  trust,  to  act  promptly,  concentrate 
their  energies ;  do  the  thing  —  "  Carry  a  message 

20  to  Garcia." 

General  Garcia  is  dead  now,  but  there  are  other 
Garcias.  No  man  who  has  endeavored  to  carry 
out  an  entei'prise  where  many  hands  were  needed 
but  has  been  well-nigh  appalled  at  times  by  the 

25  stupidity  of  the  average  man,  —  the  inability  or 
unwillingness  to  concentrate  on  a  thing  and  do  it. 


BOOK  FOUK  261 

Slipshod  assistance,  foolish  inattention,  dowdy 
indifference,  and  half-hearted  work  seem  the  rule ; 
and  no  man  succeeds  unless  by  hook  or  crook  or 
threat  he  forces  or  bribes  other  men  to  assist  him. 

You,  reader,  put  this  matter  to  a  test.  You  are  sit-    s 
ting  now  in  your  office  —  six  clerks  are  within  call. 
Summon  any  one  and  make  this  request :  "  Please 
look  in  the  encyclopedia  and  make  a  brief  memo- 
randum for  me  concerning  the  life  of  Correggio." 

Will  the  clerk  quietly  say,  "  Yes,  sir,"  and  go  do  lo 
the  task?    On  your  life  he  will  not.    He 'will  look 
at  you  out  of  a  fishy  eye  and  ask  one  or  more  of 
the  following  questions : 

Who  was  he  ? 

Which  encyclopedia  ?  15 

Where  is  the  encyclopedia  ? 

Was  I  hired  for  that  ? 

Don't  you  mean  Bismarck  ? 

What 's  the  matter  with  Charlie's  doing  it  ? 

Is  he  dead  ?  20 

Is  there  any  hurry  ? 

Shan't  I  bring  you  the  book  and  let  you  look  it 
up  yourself  ? 

What  do  you  want  to  know  for  ? 

Now  if  you  are  wise,  you  will  not  bother  to  25 
explain   to   your   "  assistant "    that    Correggio   is 


262  THE  HILL  READERS 

indexed  under  the  C's,  not  in  the  K's ;  but  you  will 
smile  sweetly  and  say,  "  Never  mind/'  and  go  look 
it  up  yourself.  And  this  incapacity  for  independent 
action,  this  moral  stupidity,  this  infirmity  of  the 

5  will,  this  unwillingness  to  catch  hold  cheerfully  and 
lift,  —  these  are  the  things  that  put  pure  socialism 
so  far  into  the  future.  If  men  will  not  act  for 
themselves,  what  will  they  do  when  the  benefit  of 
their  effort  is  for  all  ? 

10  We  have  recently  been  hearing  much  sympathy 
expressed  for  the  "downtrodden  worker  of  the 
sweatshop "  and  the  "  homeless  wanderer  search- 
ing for  honest  employment,"  and  with  it  all  often 
go  many  hard  words  for  the  men  in  power.    Noth- 

15  ing  is  said  about  the  employer  who  grows  old 
before  his  time  in  a  vain  attempt  to  get  frowzy 
ne'er-do-wells  to  do  intelligent  work ;  and  his  long, 
patient  striving  with  "  help  "  that  do  nothing  but 
loaf  when  his  back  is  turned.    In  every  store  and 

20  factory  there  is  a  constant  weeding-out  process  go- 
ing on.  The  employer  is  constantly  sending  away 
"  help  "  that  have  shown  their  incapacity  to  fur- 
ther the  interests  of  the  business,  and  others  are 
being  taken  on.    No  matter  how  good  times  are, 

25  this  sorting  continues ;  only  if  times  are  liard  and 
work  is  scarce,   the   sorting   is   done   finer;    but 


BOOK  FOUK  263 

out  and  forever  out  the  incompetent  and  unworthy 
go.  It  is  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  Self-interest 
prompts  every  employer  to  keep  the  best,  —  those 
who  can  carry  a  message  to  Garcia.  Have  I  put 
the  matter  too  strongly?  Possibly  I  have;  but  5 
when  all  the  world  has  gone  a-slumming,  I  wish 
to  speak  a  word  of  sympathy  for  the  man  who 
succeeds,  —  the  man  who,  against  great  odds,  has 
directed  the  efforts  of  others,  and,  having  suc- 
ceeded, finds  there's  nothing  in  it,  —  nothing  but  lo 
bare  board  and  clothes.  I  have  carried  ^.  dinner 
pail  and  worked  for  day's  wages,  and  I  have  also 
been  an  employer  of  labor,  and  I  know  there  is 
something  to  be  said  on  both  sides.  There  is  no 
excellence  in  poverty;  rags  are  no  recomnlenda-  15 
tion;  and  all  employers  are  not  grasping  and 
high-handed,  any  more  than  all  poor  men  are 
virtuous.  My  heart  goes  out  to  the  man  who  does 
his  work  when  the  '^boss"  is  away,  as  well  as 
when  he  is  at  home.  And  the  man,  who,  when  20 
given  a  letter  for  Garcia,  quietly  takes  the  missive, 
without  asking  any  idiotic  questions,  and  with  no 
lurking  intention  of  chucking  it  into  the  nearest 
sewer,  or  of  doing  aught  else  but  deliver  it,  never 
gets  "  laid  off  "  nor  has  to  go  on  a  strike  for  25 
higher  wages.     Civilization  is  one  long,  anxious 


10 


264  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

search  for  just  such  individuals.  Anything  such 
a  man  asks  shall  be  granted.  He  is  wanted  in 
every  city,  town,  and  village,  —  in  every  office, 
shop,  store,  and  factory.  The  world  cries  out  for 
such ;  he  is  needed,  and  needed  badly,  —  the  man 
who  can  carry  a  message  to  Garcia. 

insurgents :  all  the  Cubans  who  were  on  the  side  of  the  Ameri- 
cans during  the  war  with  Spain.  —  "Where  is  he  at?":  a  ques- 
tion once  asked  in  a  Congressional  speech.  —  concentrate :  unite. 
—  dowdy:  careless. — Correggio  :  a  celebrated  Italian  painter. — 
infirmity  :  weakness.  —  socialism :  a  reform  theory  that  looks  to 
a  more  even  distribution  of  capital  and  labor. 


THE  GREENWOOD  TREE 

Under  the  greenwood  tree 

Who  loves  to  lie  with  me. 

And  turn  his  merry  note 

Unto  the  sweet  bird's  throat. 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither : 

Here  shall  we  see 

No  enemy 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

Shakespeare 


BOOK  FOUR 


265 


THE  CHARGE  OF  THE  LIGHT  BRIGADE 


Alfred  Tennyson 


10 


15 


Alfred  Tennyson  (1809-1892)  was  born  at  Somersby,  Eng- 
land. His  father's  rectory  was  a  quiet  spot,  far  from  the  clamor 
of  the  world  and  the 
rumors  of  war  that 
harassed  England  at 
that  time.  The  boy 
grew  up  in  a  fairy- 
land of  his  own  mak- 
ing, happy  in  the 
companionship  of 
his  brothers  and  sis- 
ters, playing  games 
of  chivalry  and 
knight-errantry,  or 
wandering  through 
the  country  lanes  of 
Lincolnshire. 

The    poet's   first 
book  was  published 
while  he  was  at  col- 
lege,   and    was    the 
joint  work  of  himself  and  his  brother  Charles.    This  was  followed 
by  another  slender  volume,  which  met  with  some  ridicule  and  un- 
favorable criticism.  Hurt,  but  not  discouraged,  Tennyson  worked 
away  by  himself  until,  ten  years  later,  he  brought  out  two  volumes  25 
which  placed  him  at  once  among  the  greatest  poets. 

In  1850  Wordsworth  died  and  Tennyson  became  poet  laureate 
in  his  place.  At  his  home  in  the  Isle  of  Wight  he  lived  an  ideal 
existence,  surrounded  by  all  that  is  beautiful  in  nature  and 
sheltered  from  the  turmoil  of  city  life.    Yet  Tennyson  was  30 


20 


266  THE  HILL  READERS 

always  keenly  alive  to  the  public  questions  of  the  day,  —  a 
quality  sharply  contrasted  with  his  delight  in  pure  melody  and 
beauty. 

Among  his  great  poems  are  the  Idylls  of  the  King,  celebrating 

5  the  hero  of  his  boyish  days,  King  Arthur.  The  Princess,  Maud, 
and  In  Memoriam  are  his  other  long  poems,  but  his  fame  rests 
on  some  of  his  shorter  ones  as  well.  In  skill  in  the  poet's  art,  in 
fullness  of  imaginative  power,  in  wide  range  of  accurate  knowl- 
edge, and  in  variety  of  thought  Tennyson  has  had  few  equals. 

10  All  things  considered,  he  may  be  regarded  as  the  most  representa- 
tive poet  of  his  time. 

Half  a  league,  half  a  league, 

Half  a  league  onward, 
All  in  the  valley  of  Death 
16  Rode  the  six  hundred. 

"  Forward  the  Light  Brigade  ! 
Charge  for  the  guns  !  "  he  said  : 
Into  the  valley  of  Death 
Rode  the  six  hundred. 

20  "  Forward,  the  Light  Brigade  !  " 

Was  there  a  man  dismay'd  ? 
Not  tho'  the  soldier  knew 

Some  one  had  blunder  d  : 
Theirs  not  to  make  reply, 
26  Theirs  not  to  reason  why, 

Theirs  but  to  do  and  die : 
Into  the  valley  of  Death 
Rode  the  six  hundred. 


BOOK  FOUR  267 

Cannon  to  right  of  them, 
Cannon  to  left  of  them, 
Cannon  in  front  of  them 
VoUey'd  and  thunder'd ; 


Storm' d  at  with  shot  and  shell,  5 

Boldly  they  rode  and  well. 
Into  the  jaws  of  Death, 
Into  the  mouth  of  Hell 
Rode  the  six  hundred. 

Flash' d  all  their  sabres  bare,  10 

Flash' d  as  they  turned  in  air 
Sabring  the  gunners  there. 
Charging  an  army,  while 

All  the  world  wonder' d  : 
Plunged  in  the  battery-smoke  is 

Right  thro'  the  line  they  broke  ; 
Cossack  and  Russian 


268  THE  HILL  HEADERS 

Reel'd  from  the  sabre-stroke 
Shatter' d  and  sunder' d. 

Then  they  rode  back,  but  not  — 
Not  the  six  hundred. 

5  Cannon  to  right  of  them, 

Cannon  to  left  of  them, 
Cannon  behind  them 

Volley' d  and  thunder' d ; 
Storm' d  at  with  shot  and  shell, 

10  While  horse  and  hero  fell. 

They  that  had  fought  so  well 
Came  thro'  the  jaws  of  Death, 
Back  from  the  mouth  of  Hell, 
All  that  was  left  of  them, 

15  Left  of  six  hundred. 

When  can  their  glory  fade  ? 
0  the  wild  charge  they  made  ! 

All  the  world  wonder'd. 
Honor  the  charge  they  made ! 
20  Honor  the  Light  Brigade, 

Noble  six  hundred  ! 


BOOK  FOUR  269 

THE  KNIGHT  AND  THE  SARACEN— I 

Walter  Scott 

The  burning  sun  of  Syria  had  not  yet  reached 
its  zenith,  when  a  knight  of  the  Red  Cross,  who 
had  left  his  distant  northern  home  and  joined  the 
host  of  the  crusaders  in  Palestine,  was  pacing 
slowly  along  the  sandy  deserts  which  lie  in  the  5 
neighborhood  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

The  toil,  the  thirst,  the  dangers  of  the  way,  were 
forgotten  as  the  traveler  recalled  the  fearful  catas- 
trophe which  had  changed  into  this  parched  and 
blighted  wilderness  a  valley  which  had  once  been  lo 
fair  and  fertile  and  well  watered  even  as  the 
Garden  of  the  Lord. 

Crossing  himself  as  he  looked  at  the  dark  mass 
of  rolling  waters,  the  traveler  shuddered  as  he 
remembered  that  beneath  these  waves  lay  the  is 
once  proud  cities  of  the  plain,  whose  remains  were 
hidden  by  that  sea  which  holds  no  Hving  fish  in 
its  bosom,  bears  no  skiff  upon  its  surface,  and  sends 
not,  like  other  lakes,  its  waters  to  the  ocean.  The 
land  as  well  as  the  lake  might  be  called  dead.  20 
Nothing  in  the  way  of  plants  grew  on  the  shores, 
and  the  very  air  was  without  any  sign  of  winged 


270  THE  HILL  READERS 

insects,  while  the  burning  sun  turned  the  waters 
of  the  lake  into  sulphurous  clouds. 

Upon   this   scene   the   sun   shone  with   almost 
unbearable  splendor.    All  living  nature  seemed  to 

5  have  hidden  itself  from  the  rays,  except  the  lonely 
figure  which  appeared  to  be  the  only  breathing 
thing  on  the  wide  plain. 

The  dress  of  the  rider  and  the  trappings  of  his 
horse  were  unfit  for  the  traveler  in  such  a  country. 

10  The  knight  wore  a  coat  of  mail  with  long  sleeves, 
metal  gloves,  and  a  steel  breastplate.  Suspended 
around  his  neck  was  his  shield,  and  upon  his  head 
was  a  helmet  of  steel.  His  lower  limbs  were  also 
clothed  in  mail,  and  his  feet  rested  in  shoes  of 

15  metal  like  the  gloves.  In  his  belt  on  one  side 
was  a  broadsword  with  a  handle  framed  like  a 
cross,  and  on  the  other  side  was  a  slender  dag- 
ger. He  carried  also,  with  one  end  resting  on  his 
stirrup,  a  long  steel-headed  lance  to  which  was 

20  fastened  a  small  flag.  Over  his  armor  there  was  a 
loose  coat  of  cloth  without  sleeves.  This  was  much 
worn  and  frayed,  but  was  thus  far  useful,  that  it 
shielded  the  metal  from  the  burning  rays  of  the 
sun.    Without  it  the  knight  could  not  have  borne 

25  the  intense  heat.  This  garment  had  embroidered 
upon  it  in  several  places  the  owner's  coat  of  arms, 


BOOK  FOUR  271 

which  seemed  to  be  a  couchant  leopard  with  the< 
words,  "I  sleep  —  wake  me  not." 

The  horse's  trappings  consisted  of  a  heavy  saddle 
plated  with  steel,  uniting  in  front  with  a  kind  of 
breastplate,  and  behind  with  armor  made  to  cover  5 
his  loins.  A  steel  ax  hung  at  the  saddlebow,  the 
reins  were  held  by  chain  work,  and  at  the  front  of 
the  bridle  was  a  steel  plate  with  openings  for  the 
eyes  and  nostrils. 

Nature,  which  had  cast  the  limbs  of  the  crusader  lo 
in  a  mold  of  uncommon  strength,  had  fitted  him 
to  wear  his  heavy  armor  with  as  much  ease  as  if 
it  had  been  formed  of  cobwebs.  He  possessed  a 
constitution  which  was  as  strong  as  his  limbs,  and 
which  could  bear  the  greatest  fatigue  and  exposure  is 
to  all  kinds  of  weather. 

Nature  had,  however,  her  demands  for  rest  and 
refreshment  upon  even  the  iron  frame  of  the 
Knight  of  the  Sleeping  Leopard.  At  noon,  when 
the  Dead  Sea  lay  at  some  distance  on  his  right,  he  20 
joyfully  hailed  the  sight  of  two  or  three  palm 
trees  which  arose  beside  the  well  at  which  he 
intended  to  stop  and  partake  of  his  midday  meal. 
His  good  horse,  too,  now  lifted  his  head,  expanded 
his  nostrils,  and  quickened  his  steps  as  he  smelled  25 
afar  off  the  living  waters  which  marked  the  place 


272  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

of  rest  and  refreshment.  But  labor  and  danger 
were  to  come  before  the  horse  or  horseman  reached 
the  desired  spot. 

THE  KNIGHT  AND  THE  SARACEN  — H 

As  the  Knight  of  the  Coiichant  Leopard  con- 

5  tinned  to  fix  his  eyes  on  the  yet  distant  cluster 
of  palm  trees,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  some  object 
was  moving  among  them.  The  distant  form  sepa- 
rated itself  from  the  trees,  which  partly  hid  its 
motions,  and  came  toward  the  knight  at  a  speed 

10  which  soon  showed  a  mounted  horseman.  As  he 
came  nearer,  his  turban,  long  spear,  and  the  flow- 
ing sleeves  of  his  green  vest,  girdled  at  the  waist, 
proved  to  the  crusader  that  the  horseman  was 
a  Saracen. 

15  "In  the  desert,"  says  an  Eastern  proverb,  "no 
man  meets  a  friend."  The  knight  was  quite  indif- 
ferent whether  the  rider,  who  approached  as  if 
borne  on  the  wings  of  an  eagle,  came  as  friend 
or  foe;   perhaps,  as  a  champion  of  the  Cross,  he 

20  might  have  preferred  the  latter. 

He  loosened  his  lance  from  the  saddle,  seized 
it  with  his  right  hand,  placed  it  in  rest  with  its 
point  half  lifted,  gathered  up  the  reins  in  his  left 


BOOK  FOUR  273 

hand,  waked  his  horse's  mettle  with  the  spur,  and 
prepared  to  meet  the  stranger  with  the  calmness 
belonging  to  the  victor  in  many  contests. 

The  Saracen  came  on  at  the  speedy  gallop  of  an 
Arab  horseman,  managing  his  steed  more  by  his  5 
limbs  and  the  bending  of  his  body  than  by  the  use 
of  the  reins,  which  hung  loose  in  his  left  hand. 
On  his  arm  he  wore  a  light,  round  buckler,  made 
of  the  skin  of  the  rhinoceros,  and  ornamented 
with  silver  loops.  His  spear  was  not  held  like  lo 
that  of  the  crusader,  but  grasped  by  tire  middle 
with  his  right  hand  and  raised  at  arm's  length 
above  his  head. 

As   the   Saracen   approached  at  full   speed   he 
seemed  to  expect  that  the  Knight  of  the  Leopard  15 
should  put  his  horse  to  the  gallop  to  meet  him. 
But  the  Christian,  knowing  well  the  customs  of 
Eastern  warriors,  did  not  mean  to  tire  his  horse 
without  good   reason.     Instead   of   doing  .as  the 
Arab  expected,  the  crusader  made  a  dead  halt.  20 
When   the    Saracen    had    approached    to    within 
twice  the  length  of  his  lance,  he  wheeled  his  horse 
to  the  left  and  rode  twice  round  the  knight,  who, 
without  quitting  his  ground  turned  his  horse,  keep- 
ing his  front  constantly  to  his  enemy,  so  that  he  25 
could  not  attack  him  at  any  unguarded  point. 


274  THE  HILL  READERS 

The  Saracen,  wheeling  his  horse,  retreated  to 
the  distance  of  a  hundred  yards.  A  second  time, 
like  a  hawk  attacking  a  heron,  he  renewed  the 
charge,  and  a  second  time  retreated  without  com- 
5  ing  to  a  close  fight.  A  third  time  he  approached 
in  the  same  manner,  when  the  knight,  growing 
tired  of  this  kind  of  warfare,  suddenly  seized  the 
battle-ax  which  hung  at  his  saddlebow,  and  with 
a  strong  hand  and  unerring  aim  hurled  it  against 

10  the  head  of  his  enemy.  The  Saracen  became  aware 
of  the  crusader's  intention  just  in  time  to  interpose 
his  light  buckler  between  the  ax  and  his  head ;  but 
the  blow  forced  the  buckler  down  upon  his  turban, 
and  the  Saracen  was  beaten  from  his  horse. 

15  Before  the  knight  could  do  anything  more,  his 
foe  sprang  from  the  ground,  called  his  horse  to  his 
side,  and  leaped  into  his  saddle  without  touching 
the  stirrup.  The  crusader  in  the  meantime  had 
recovered  his  ax,  but  the  Saracen  kept  well  out 

20  of  the  jeach  of  that  weapon  of  which  he  had  so 
lately  felt  the  force.  Planting  his  long  spear  in 
the  sand,  he  took  a  short  bow  which  he  carried  on 
his  back,  and,  putting  his  horse  to  the  gallop  once 
more,  described  two  or  three  circles,  in  the  course 

25  of  which  he  discharged  six  arrows  at  the  knight. 
So  unerring  was   the  Arab's  aim  that  only  the 


275 


276  THE  HILL  READERS 

knight's  armor  saved  him  from  being  wounded  in 
as  many  places. 

The  seventh  arrow  seemed  to  find  an  unguarded 
point   in   the   armor,   and   the    crusader   dropped 

5  heavily  from  his  horse.  The  Saracen  dismounted 
to  examine  the  condition  of  his  fallen  enemy,  and 
to  his  surprise  found  himself  suddenly  within  the 
grasp  of  the  Christian,  who  had  fallen  in  order  to 
bring  .his  foe  within  his  reach. 

10  Even  in  this  deathly  struggle  the  Saracen  was 
saved  by  his  quickness  and  presence  of  mind.    He 

.  unloosed  the  sword  belt  in  which  the  knight  had 
fixed  his  hold,  and,  thus  freeing  himself,  he  mounted 
his  horse,  which  seemed  to  watch  his  motions  with 

15  the  intelligence  of  a  human  being,  and  again  rode 
off.  But  in  the  struggle  he  had  lost  his  sword  and 
his  quiver  of  arrows,  both  of  which  had  been  fas- 
tened to  the  belt  left  in  the  knight's  grasp.  His 
turban  also  was  lying  at  the  feet  of  the  victor. 

20  These  losses  seemed  to  incline  the  Saracen  to  a 
truce.  He  approached  the  Christian  with  extended 
hand. 

"  There  is  now  a  truce  between  our  nations,"  he 
said ;  "  wherefore  should  there  be  war  between  thee 

25  and  me  ?    Let  there  be  peace  between  us." 

"  I  am  well  contented,"  said  the  Knight  of  the 


BOOK  FOUR  277 

Couchant  Leopard ;  "  but  what  security  dost  thou 
offer  that  thou  wilt  keep  the  truce  ?  " 

"My  word   was  never  broken,"   answered  the 
Saracen.     "I  ask  no   security  from  thee,   brave 
knight,  for  I  know  that  treachery  seldom  dwells    5 
with  courage." 

Such  confidence  made  the  crusader  ashamed  of 
his  own  doubts.    ''  By  the  cross  on  my  sword,"  he 
said,  laying  his  hand  on  his  weapon  as  he  spoke,  "  I 
will  be  a  true  companion  to  thee,  Saracen,  while  our  10 
fortune  wills  that  we  remain  in  company  together." 

"  There   is   no   treachery  in   my  heart  toward 
thee,"  replied  his  late  foe ;  "  and  now  let  us  go  to 
yonder  fountain,  for  the  hour  of  rest  is  at  hand, 
and  the  stream  had  hardly  touched  my  lip  when  I  15 
was  called  to  battle  by  thy  approach." 

The  Knight  of  the  Couchant  Leopard  gave  a 
ready  and  courteous  assent;  and  the  late  foes, 
without  an  angry  look  or  gesture  of  doubt,  rode 
side  by  side  to  the  little  cluster  of  palm  trees.     20 

From  The  Talisman 

zenith:  the  point  in  the  heavens  directly  overhead. — cru- 
saders :  bands  of  Christian  warriors  who  went  to  Palestine  in 
order  to  get  possession  of  the  Holy  Sepulcher.  —  catastrophe : 
dreadful  event.  - — couchant:  crouching. — Saracen:  the  Saracens, 
who  were  hostile  to  the  Christians,  were  at  this  time  in  authority 
in  Palestine. 


278 


THE  HILL  READERS 


10 


15 


TO  STAY  AT  HOME  IS  BEST 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow 

Stay,  stay  at  home,  my  heart,  and  rest ; 
Home-keeping  hearts  are  happiest, 
For  those  that  wander  they  know  not  where 
Are  full  of  trouble  and  full  of  care; 
To  stay  at  home  is  best. 

Weary  and  homesick  and  distressed. 
They  wander  east,  they  wander  west. 
And  are  baffled  and  beaten  and  blown  about 
By  the  winds  of  the  wilderness  of  doubt ; 
To  stay  at  home  is  best. 

Then  stay  at  home,  my  heart,  and  rest ; 
The  bird  is  safest  in  its  nest ; 
O'er  all  that  flutter  their  wings  and  fly 
A  hawk  is  hovering  in  the  sky; 
To  stay  at  home  is  best. 


BOOK  FOUR  279 

THE  RAINBOW 
William  Wordsworth 

William  Wordsworth  (1770-1850),  an  English  poet  of  high 
rank,  was  born  in  Cumberland  County,  England.  After  leaving 
the  University  of  Cambridge  he  traveled  in  France,  just  then 
on  the  verge  of  its  terrible  Revolution.  The  young  poet  was 
charmed  by  the  promise  of  "  Liberty,  Equality,  and  Fraternity  "  5 
made  by  the  leaders  of  the  Revolution,  but  later  developments 
filled  him  with  gloom,  and  he  says  that  only  his  sister  Dorothy's 
influence  kept  alive  the  poetic  spirit  within  him. 

Wordsworth,  in  1797,  formed  an  intimate  friendship  with  the 
poet  Coleridge,  and  from  this  date  his  true  poetic aV  career  may  10 
be  said  to  begin.  In  his  cottage  at  Rydal  Mount,  Wordsworth 
lived  an  ideal  life  for  a  poet ;  he  read  little,  thought  much,  wrote 
as  the  mood  swept  over  him,  and,  in  the  company  of  his  gifted  wife 
and  sister,  set  an  example  of  <'  plain  living  and  high  thinking." 

Wordsworth  was  passionately  fond  of  nature ,  and  his  most  char-  15 
acteristic  poems  are  full  of  exquisite  descriptions  and  illustrations 
drawn  from  woods,  rocks,  flowers,  clouds,  streams,  and  mountains. 

My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold , 

A  rainbow  in  the  sky ; 
So  was  it  when  my  life  began ;  20 

So  is  it  now  I  am  a  man ; 
So  be  it  when  I  shall  grow  old, 

Or  let  me  die  ! 
The  Child  is  father  of  the  Man ; 
And  I  could  wish  my  days  to  be  26 

Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety. 


280  THE  HILL  READERS 

THE  DOG  THAT  LIED 

Jean  Aicard 

Jean  Aicard  (1848-  ),  a  French  poet  and  story-teller, 
was  born  in  London.  He  is  the  author  of  several  volumes  of 
poetry  and  some  clever  short  stories. 

I  had  trusted  him  for  a  long  time;  the  fact  is, 

5  we  loved  each  other.  He  was  a  shepherd  dog,  snow- 
white,  with  a  brown  marking  on  the  top  of  his 
head.  I  called  him  Pierrot.  He  may,  perhaps, 
have  been  the  son  of  a  circus  dog ;  at  any  rate,  he 
could  climb  trees  and  ladders,  and  perform  other 

10  odd  tricks.  He  was  fairly  in  love  with  a  little 
wooden  ball  about  the  size  of  a  billiard  ball.  One 
day  he  brought  it  to  me,  and,  sitting  on  his 
haunches,  said  quite  plainly :  "  Throw  it  away 
out  on  the  grass.     I  '11  find  it,  —  see  if  I  don't." 

15  I  did  as  he  wanted,  and  he  succeeded  perfectly. 
From  that  time  on  he  became  positively  tiresome, 
for  he  was  forever  saying,  "  Let 's  have  a  game 
of  ball."  Every  chance  he  got  he  would  come 
rushing  into  my  study  with  his  ball  in  his  mouth, 

20  and,  standing  on  his  hind  legs,  with  his  fore  paws 
thrust  into  the  midst  of  my  papers,  valuable  manu- 
scripts, and  open  books,  he  would  exclaim : 


BOOK   FOUR  281 

"Look!  here's  the  ball.  Throw  it  out  of  the 
window  and  I  will  tear  after  it.  It 's  great  fun,  — 
see  if  it  is  n't.  Much  more  amusing  than  your  old 
manuscripts  and  novels  and  plays  and  newspapers." 
I  Out  the  ball  would  seem  to  go ;  out  Pierrot  5 
would  rush,  but,  poor  fellow,  only  to  be  deceived ; 
for  no  sooner  was  he  outside  than  the  ball  would 
be  laid  on  the  table  again  to  serve  as  a  paper- 
weight. Pierrot,  out  on  the  lawn,  would  look  and 
look ;  then,  coming  back  under  the  window,  he  10 
would  cry  out :  "  I  say  there,  you  literary  fellow, 
this  is  a  little  too  much !  I  can't  find  anything  of 
the  ball.  The  fact  is,  there 's  nothing  here.  And 
if  a  passer-by  hasn't  taken  it,  then  you  have  it, 
as  sure  as  can  be."  15 

He  would  come  upstairs  again,  poke  his  nose 
into  my  coat  pockets,  under  the  furniture,  into  the 
half-open  drawers,  and  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  is  struck  with  a  bright  idea, 
he  would  say,  "  I  '11  wager  that 's  the  ball  there  20 
on  the  table." 

Of  course  I  took  good  care  not  to  wager  with 
him,  for  it  was  in  truth  the  ball.    To  hide  it  again 
I  had  to  be  quick,   and  then  good-by  to  work. 
Those  were  lively  times ;  Pierrot  would  leap  after  25 
the  ball,  bound  to  have  it  at  any  cost ;  he  would 


282  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

follow  my  slightest  movements  with  the  most  agile 
countermotions,  all  the, time  in  a  broad  smile, — 
smiling  in  the  only  way  a  dog  can ;  that  is  to  say, 
constantly  wagging  his  tail. 

5  Withal  he  was  a  good  watchdog,  and  that 's 
worth  a  great  deal  in  the  country.    He  often  made 

.  me  think  of  those  men,  changed  by  magic  into  dogs, 
of  whom  we  read  in  fairy  tales.  The  glance  of  his 
eye  had  a  tender,  deep,  and  beseeching  quality, 

10  which  seemed  to  say  apologetically :  "  Don't  ask 
too  much  of  me.  I  am  only  what  you  see  —  a  dog 
with  four  paws ;  but  my  heart  is  a  human  heart, 
a  better  one,  indeed,  than  most  men  possess.  Sor- 
row has  taught  me  much ;  I  have  suffered  much. 

15  I  suffer  even  at  this  moment  because  I  am  not 
able  to  express  to  you,  in  words  like  your  own, 
my  good  will  and  affection.  Yes,  I  am  devoted 
to  you.  I  love  you  with  the  faithful  love  of  a  dog. 
I  would  die  for  you  if  necessary.    Your  property 

20  is  my  sacred  trust.  If  anybody  meddles  with  it, 
let  them  look  out  for  themselves." 

But,  notwithstanding,  we  quarreled  one  day, 
and  it  was  a  bitter  disappointment  to  me.  Those 
who  put  their  trust  in  dogs  will  understand  my 

25  feelings.    This  is  the  way  it  happened. 
The  cook  had  killed  two  pigeons. 


BOOK  FOUR  283 

"  I  will  serve  them  with  peas/'  she  said  to  herself. 

She  went  into  the  storeroom  to  get  a  basket 
into  which  to  put  the  feathers  as  she  plucked  the 
pigeons.  When  she  came  back  into  the  kitchen 
she  cried  out  in  alarm.  One  of  her  pigeons  had  5 
flown,  and  yet  she  had  n't  been  gone  from  the  room 
more  than  two  seconds.  A  tramp  going  by  had 
undoubtedly  thrust  his  arm  through  the  open  win- 
dow and  stolen  the  bird.  She  rushed  out  to  capture 
the  tramp.  Not  a  soul  to  be  seen !  Then  she  10 
thought  to  herself,  "  The  dog !  "  But,  -seized  at 
once  with  remorse,  she  mentally  added,  "  What  a 
shame  to  suspect  Pierrot !  He 's  never  stolen  a 
mouthful.  Why,  he  'd  stand  watch  all  day  over 
a  leg  of  mutton  without  smelling  it,  even  if  he  15 
were  hungry.  Moreover,  there  he  is,  still  in  the 
kitchen,  lazily  sitting  on  his  haunches,  with  half- 
closed  eyes,  yawning  from  time  to  time.  No,  he  's 
thinking  precious  little  about  my  pigeons." 

True  enough ;   there  was  Pierrot,  half  dozing,  20 
seemingly  utterly  indifferent  to  all  going  on  about 
him.    I  was  called. 

"  Pierrot !  " 

He  turned  his  sleepy  eyes  toward  me  as  if  say- 
ing :  "  Eh  !  what  did  you  say,  master  ?    I  was  so  25 
comfortable.    I  was  just  thinking  of  the  ball." 


284  THE  HILL  READERS 

"Ah!  of  the  ball,"  said  I ;  and  then  to  the  cook  : 

"  I  am    of  your  opinion,  Catherine ;    Pierrot  did 

not  steal  your  pigeon ;  if  he  had,  he  would  be  busy 

plucking  it  at  the  bottom  of  some  ditch  or  other, 

5  you  may  depend  upon  it." 

"Nevertheless,  look  at  him,  sir,"  said  Catherine. 
"  That  dog  has  n't  the  look  of  an  honest  Christian." 
"  What !  would  you  say  —  " 
"  I  say  that  at  this  very  moment  he  has  a  guilty 
10  look  about  him." 

"  Look  at  me,  Pierrot !  "  I  said  sharply.    Hang- 
ing his  head  a  little,  he  at  once  replied,  in  a  some- 
what grumbling  tone  :  "Should  I  be  quietly  sitting 
here  if  I  had  stolen  your  pigeon  ?    No,  certainly 
15  not;  I  should  be  busy  plucking  it." 

He  was  serving  me  with   my  own   argument. 
This  looked  suspicious. 

"  Look  at  me,"  I  ordered  him ;  "  straight  in  the 
face  —  like  this." 
20  He  put  on  an  air  of  indifference.  There  was  no 
longer  any  room  for  doubt  in  my  mind.  I  turned 
sorrowfully  to  Catherine  and  exclaimed  :  "  Ah, 
what  a  pity !  it  is  he  who  is  guilty.  I  am  sure 
of  it.  It  is  he." 
25  I  assure  you,  reader,  that  I  am  very  serious  when 
I  say  that  what  I  saw  in  the  eyes  of  that  dog  came 


BOOK  FOUR  285 

upon  me  like  a  painful  shock.  I  had  distinctly 
seen  there  a  human  lie.  He  had  tried  to  throw  a 
false  appearance  of  sincerity  into  his  look,  and  had 
utterly  failed;  for  it  is  impossible  even  for  man  to 
do  it.  As  for  Pierrot,  he  exhausted  himself  in  vain  5 
effort.  The  deep  desire  to  deceive  was,  in  his  very 
eyes,  struggling  with  the  feeble  show  of  sincerity 
which  he  succeeded  in  bringing  into  play.  The 
accomplished  lie  was  a  sadder  revelation  of  his 
guilt  than  actual  proof.  Nevertheless,  in  order  to  10 
be  blameless  in  the  matter,  I  wanted  certain  proof. 

With  a  deceiver,  deception  is  excusable. 

"Here,"  I  said  to  the  guilty  dog,  "  you  may  have 
this";  and  I  gave  him  the  odd  pigeon.  He  looked 
at  me  and  said  thoughtfully  to  himself :  "  Hum !  15 
This  is  surprising.  I  see  you  suspect  me  and 
want  to  detect  me.  Otherwise,  why  now  give  me 
a  pigeon  ?    Such  a  thing  never  happened  before." 

He  lifted  the  pigeon  in  his   mouth  and   then 
slowly  put  it  down  on  the  ground,  saying,  "  I  'm  20 
at  least  not  a  fool." 

"  But  it 's  yours,"  I  said ;  "  I  tell  you,  it 's  yours. 
Don't  you  like  pigeons  ?    Very  well ;  take  this  one. 
Besides,  I  had  two  of  them,  and  I  needed  two.    I 
can't  do  anything  with  one.    I  tell  you  again,  this  25 
is  for  you." 


286  THE   HILL  READERS 

I  patted  him,  thinking  all  the  while :  "  You 
wretched  thief !  you  have  betrayed  my  confidence 
as  if  you  were  a  mere  man.  You  are  a  knavish 
beast  1 "  adding  aloud,  "  Good  old  Pierrot !  brave 

5  old  Pierrot !  fine  fellow  !" 

On  this  he  decided  to  accept  my  gift,  picked  up 
the  pigeon,  rose,  and  went  out  slowly,  not,  however, 
without  turning  his  face  toward  me  several  times, 
as  if  trying  to  read  my  real  mind.    As  soon  as 

10  he  was  outside  I  closed  the  door  and  looked  out 
through  the  glass  panels  on  the  side  to  see  what 
he  would  do.  He  took  a  few  steps  as  if  he  proposed 
to  go  to  some  out-of-the-way  place  to  eat  his  prize ; 
then  he  stopped,  dropped  the  pigeon  on  the  ground, 

15  and  pondered  for  a  long  time.  Several  times  he 
turned  his  deceitful  eyes  toward  the  door;  then 
he  gave  up  trying  to  find  a  satisfactory  expla- 
nation of  the  situation,  contented  himself  with 
the  facts  as  they  were,  picked  up  his  pigeon,  and 

20  walked  off.  And  as  he  disappeared,  his  droop- 
ing tail,  which  had  expressed  timidity  and  hesita- 
tion in  all  its  motions  during  our  conversation  in 
the  kitchen,  assumed  an  air  of  more  self-respect, 
as  if  Pierrot  were   saying :    "  Bah !    Take  things 

25  as  they  come.  Nobody  cares  for  me.  A  jolly 
life's  the  thing.'' 


BOOK  FOUR  287 

I  followed  him  at  a  distance  and  surprised  him 
in  the  act  of  digging  a  hole  in  the  ground  with  his 
paws  in  a  very  lively  fashion.  The  pigeon  I  had 
given  him  was  lying  beside  the  hole  on  which  he 
was  working.  I  dug  the  hole  a  little  deeper  myself,  5 
and  behold !  there  was  the  stolen  pigeon  skilKully 
hidden.  I  was  confounded.  My  good  friend  Pierrot 
not  only  followed  the  habits  of  his  forefathers,  the 
foxes  and  wolves,  and  buried  his  food,  but  he  fol- 
lowed the  habits  of  civilized  life,  and  had  learned  10 
to  lie  !  In  the  presence  of  the  falsifier  I  gathered 
and  tied  together  some  of  the  largest  feathers  of 
my  two  pigeons,  like  a  small  feather  duster,  and 
put  them  on  my  study  table.  After  that,  whenever 
Pierrot  brought  me  his  ball,  saying  with  a  frank  15 
and  open  smile  :  "  What !  working  ?  Stop  and 
have  a  game  with  me,"  —  I  would  lift  the  little 
feather  duster,  and  Pierrot  would  hang  his  head, 
his  tail  would  droop  between  his  legs  in  shame, 
the  ball  would  fall  from  his  mouth,  and  he  would  20 
sadly  exclaim,  "Will  you  never  forgive  me? " 

"  You  do  not  love  me,"  I  said  to  him  one  morn- 
ing ;  "  no,  you  do  not  love  me,  for  you  lied  to  me, 
and  lied  after  thinking  it  over." 

A  kindly  voice  —  whose  it  was  or  whence  it  came  25 
I  do  not  know  —  replied :  "  Yes,  he  does  love  you, 


288 


THE  HILL  READERS 


my  friend,  and  you  still  love  him  sincerely.  He 
has  been  sufficiently  punished  by  this  time.  Let 
bygones  be  bygones." 

I  picked  up  the  little  feather  duster,  and  yet  on 

6  this  occasion  Pierrot  did  not  seem  to  fear  it.  "You 
see  it  for  the  last  time,"  I  said.  "  Thus  shall  the 
record  of  your  guilt  perish";  and  I  threw  the 
thing  into  the  fire.  Pierrot,  gravely  seated  on  his 
haunches,  watched    it  burn.    Then,  without  any 

10  burst  of  emotion,  without  leaps  or  bounds,  but 
simply,  nobly,  he  came  to  lick  my  hand.  A  feel- 
ing of  indescribable  happiness  filled  my  heart.  It 
was  the  happiness  of  forgiving. 

And  in  a  low  voice  my  dog  said  to  me :  "  I  know 

15  what  you  feel ;  I  know  that  happiness,  too.  For 
how  many  things  have  I  forgiven  you  without  your 

knowing  it!"  From  the  French 

agile  countermotions :  quick  motions  made  to  check  or  match 
those  of  an  opponent. 


BOOK  FOUR  289 

THE  BRAZEN  HEAD 
Horace  Elisha  Scudder 

There  was  once  a  wise  man  named  Roger  Bacon. 
In  his  day  the  wise  men  were  almost  always  mem- 
bers of  some  religious  order,  and  Roger  Bacon  was 
of  the  order  of  Friars,  and  so  came  to  be  known  as 
Friar  Bacon.  5 

It  was  a  time  when  learned  men  were  ttying 
to  do  all  manner  of  vain  things.  They  thought  to 
discover  some  wonderful  draught  which  would 
make  men  live  forever.  They  tried  to  find  some 
means  by  which  they  could  turn  lead  or  iron  into  10 
gold,  and  they  fancied  there  was  a  kind  of  powder 
which  would  do  this ;  this  powder  they  called  the 
Philosopher's  Stone. 

So  they  mixed  all  kinds  of  powders  and  liquids ; 
they  were  forever  at  work  over  their  charcoal  fires,  15 
and  as  each  one  wished  to  be  the  great  discoverer, 
they  all  worked   in  secret  chambers  and  behind 
closed  doors. 

Thus  they  came  to  be  thought  of  as  workers  in 
magic,  and  people  looked  curiously  at  them  and  20 
were  rather  afraid  of  them.    These  wise  men  needed 
servants  to  fetch  and  carry  for  them,  and  they 


290  THE  HILL  READERS 

sometimes  chose  servants  who  were  dull,  for  they 
did  not  wish  any  one  who  was  near  to  them  to 
know  what  they  did. 

Friar  Bacon  worked  much  in  his  cell,  and  he 
5  had  a  friend,  Friar  Bungey,  whom  he  trusted.  He 
had  also  a  merry  fellow  for  a  servant,  named  Miles. 
Friar  Bungey  knew  what  Friar  Bacon  was  doing, 
but  Miles  never  bothered  his  head  about  his  mas- 
ter's work. 

10  Now  Friar  Bacon  had  a  great  love  of  England, 
his  country.  And  as  he  read  in  old  histories,  he 
saw  that  more  than  once  people  had  come  across 
the  waters  and  conquered  England.  He  bethought 
himself   how  he   could    defend  the  country,  and 

15  thought  if  he  could  only  build  a  great  brass  wall 
about  England  he  could  defend  it. 

As  he  thought  longer,  this  did  not  seem  possible ; 
and  then  he  thought  if  he  could  station  a  brass 
man  here  and  there,  at  points  where  soldiers  would 

20  land,  and  if  he  could  make  the  brass  man  speak, 
he  might  defend  his  country  in  this  way ;  for  any- 
body would  be  afraid  who  came  near  the  coast  and 
saw  a  brass  man,  and  heard  him  shout. 

So  he  and  Friar  Bungey  set  to  work  and  made 

25  a  Brazen  Head.  They  fashioned  jaws,  and  tongue, 
and  teeth,  and  all  other  parts  of  the  inside  of  a 


BOOK  FOUR  291 

head,  and  set  them  carefully  within  the  Brazen 
Head.  But  though  there  was  everything  with 
which  to  speak,  the  Brazen  Head  said  never  a 
word. 

They  were  sore  perplexed ;  they  read  and  they  5 
studied,  but  could  find  out  nothing.  So  then  they 
did  what  the  wise  men  of  those  days  did  when 
everything  else  failed.  They  went  by  night  into 
a  wood,  and  there  all  by  themselves  they  called 
on  the  Evil  Spirit  to  come  out  of  the  darkness  and  lo 
tell  them  what  they  were  to  do. 

I  do  not  know  why  they  should  call  on  the  Evil 
Spirit,  and  not  on  the  Good  Spirit,  but  that  is  the 
way  the  story  runs.  So  after  they  had  coaxed  and 
threatened  the  Spirit,  they  got  this  answer.  They  i5 
were  to  take  six  herbs,  or  simples  as  they  were 
called,  and  make  a  hot  fire  and  steam  these  sim- 
ples until  they  were  a  strong  fume,  and  this  fume 
they  were  to  let  rise  into  the  Brazen  Head. 

This  they  were  to  do,  and  to  watch  the  fume  20 
steadily.    Some  time  or  other,  perhaps  in  a  month 
or  less,  the  fume  would  work  and  the  Brazen  Head 
would  speak,  and  then  they  would  know  how  it 
was  done. 

So  back  to  their  cell  went  the  two  friars.    They  25 
got  the  precious  simples  and  steamed  them,  and 


292  THE  HILL  READERS 

watched  the  hot  fumes  night  and  day,  night  and 
day.  But  after  about  three  weeks  of  this,  they 
grew  terribly  sleepy,  and  though  they  tried  to 
keep  each  other  awake,  it  was  plain  that  they 
5  might  both  be  asleep  when  the  Brazen  Head  should 
speak.  That  would  never  do ;  so  Friar  Bacon  called 
his  servant  Miles. 

"  Miles,"  said  he, "  sit  you  here  and  watch.    This 
Brazen  Head  is  about  to  speak,  but  Friar  Bungey 

10  and  I  have  watched  so  long  that  we  must  needs 
sleep.  We  look  to  you  to  take  our  place.  Have 
no  fear,  but  the  moment  you  hear  the  Head  speak, 
on  that  instant  come  quickly  and  wake  us." 

Miles  was  a  faithful  fellow,  and  he  promised 

15  Friar  Bacon  that  he  would  do  as  he  was  bid.  So 
the  two  friars  lay  down,  and  in  a  twinkling  were 
fast  asleep.  Miles  now  was  left  to  himself,  and  to 
keep  awake  he  played  on  a  fiddle  he  had  and  began 
singing  a  song,  which  he  made  up  as  he  went  along. 

20  So  he  kept  awake,  and  by  and  by  there  was  a 
great  rumble  and  quaking  sound,  and  the  Brazen 
Head  opened  its  mouth  and  spoke  just  two  words, 

''TIME  IS." 

"  Well,  well,"  quoth  Miles  to  himself  ;  "  that 's 
26  no  news.    I  '11  not  wake  master  for  that.    Go  to, 


BOOK  FOUR  293 

old  Brazen  Head!"  said  he,  aloud.  "Hath  the 
great  Friar  Bacon  worked  at  thee  all  these  months, 
and  this  is  all  that  comes  of  it  ?  '  Time  is '  ?  I  '11 
warrant  thee,  old  Boy : 

"  Time  is  for  some  to  eat,  ,  5 

Time  is  for  some  to  sleep, 

Time  is  for  some  to  laugh, 

Time  is  for  some  to  weep." 

So  honest  Miles  sang  to  the  tune  of  his  fiddle, 
and  made  up  verse  upon  verse,  wagging  his  head  lo 
and  laughing  at  that  great  Brazen  Head..  A  half 
an  hour  more,  and  the  mouth  opened  again,  and 
there  came  forth  the  words, 

"TIME  WAS." 

"  Sure   enough,"   said   Miles,   scornfully ;   "  and  is 
d  'ye  think  I  would  wake  my  master  to  tell  him 
that  great  piece   of  news  ?    '  Time  was,'  indeed ! 
Away  with  ye ! 

"  Time  was  when  thou  a  kettle 

Wert  filled  with  better  matter ;  20 

But  Friar  Bacon  did  thee  spoil 
When  he  thy  sides  did  batter. " 

And  so  did  merry  Miles  sing  to  another  jolly 
tune. 

Another   half   hour   passed.    Then  there  came  25 
a  deep  rumbling  and  grumbling  sound,  and  the 


294  THE  HILL  READERS 

Brazen  Head   opened   its  mouth  once  more  and 

clanged  out, 

^  "TIME  IS  PAST/' 

and  thereat  it  fell  over  on  its  face  and  brake  all 

5  to  bits.    And  there  was  a  terrible  noise,  and  there 

were  great  flashes  of  fire,  so  that  poor  Miles  was 

half  dead  with  fear.    He  dropped  his  fiddle  and 

fell  on  his  knees,  and  the  room  was  full  of  smoke. 

Now  the  noise  and  the  smoke  were  so  horri- 

10  ble  that  Friar  Bacon  and  Friar  Bungey  suddenly 

waked.    They  rushed  into  the  cell,  and  there  they 

saw  Miles  beating  his  breast  and  crying  out,  and 

on  the  floor  lay  the  Brazen  Head  all  in  bits. 

"  What   is   this !    what    is   this ! "    cried    Friar 
15  Bacon.    "  What  hast  thou  done  ?  " 

"  Sure,  it  fell  down  all  of  itself !  "  shouted  Miles. 

"  And  did  he  not  speak  ?    Did  he  say  nothing  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all,  at  all,"  quoth  Miles,  "  but  just 

some  senseless  words.    A  parrot  could  say  more." 

20      "  Out  upon  you !  "  said  Friar  Bacon,  lifting  his 

hand  to  strike  the  wretch.    "  If  you  had  called  us 

when  he  spake,  we  should  all  have   been   great 

men,  for  we  should  have  done  that  which  would 

have  saved  England  from  all  her  foes.    What  did 

25  the  Brazen  Head  say  ?  " 

"  It  said,  '  Time  is/  the  first  time,"  quoth  Miles. 


295 


296  THE  HILL  READERS 

"Ah !  "  said  Friar  Bacon ;  "  you  have  undone  us. 
Had  you  called  us  then,  we  should  have  been  in 
time.    Did  it  speak  again?" 

"Aye,  sir,  that  it  did,  half  an  hour  afterward; 
5  and  it  just  said,  '  Time  was.' " 

"  Woe,  woe  !  if  thou  had  called  us  then ! "  said 
Friar  Bungey,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Sure,  sir,"  said  Miles,  "  I  thought  it  would  be 
telling  some  long  tale,  and  then  I  would  have 
10  waked  ye ;  but  it  kept  quiet  for  half  an  hour,  and 
then  it  babbled  out,  '  Time  is  past,'  and  fell  down 
head  first,  and  there  was  such  a  clatter  that  I  had 
no  need  to  wake  ye.  The  old  beast  would  have 
waked  the  dead." 
15  Then  Friar  Bacon  was  wroth,  and  would  have 
let  his  hand  fall  heavy  upon  poor  Miles,  but  Friar 
Bungey  told  him  it  was  a  shame  to  strike  so  igno- 
rant a  man.  Friar  Bacon  withheld  his  hand,  but 
he  made  Miles  dumb  for  the  space  of  a  month 
20  in  punishment,  though  to  be  sure  there  was  not 
much  that  Miles  had  to  say.  So  nothing  came  of 
the  Brazen  Head,  and  England  had  to  content 
herself  with  live  men  to  guard  her  gates. 

From  The  Book  of  Legends.  Copyright,  1891).  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co.,  Publishers. 

Friars :  a  religious  band  or  order.  —  bethought  himself :  con- 
sidered, called  to  mind.  — wroth :  angry. 


BOOK  FOUR  297 

THE  BAREFOOT  BOY 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier 

John  Grekleaf  Whittier  (1807-1892),  often  called  the 
<' Quaker  Poet,"  was  born  in  Haverhill,  Massachusetts.  His 
home  was  a  busy,  methodical,  economical  one.  To  pay  his  next 
term's  school  dues  young  Whittier  worked  all  one  winter  making 
slippers,  which  he  sold  for  eight  cents  a  pair.  "He  calculated  5 
so  closely  every  item  of  expense,"  says  Pickard,  his  biographer, 
' '  that  he  knew  before  the  beginning  of  the  term  that  he  would 
have  twenty-five  cents  to  spare  at  its  close,  and  he  actually  had." 
He  made  the  most  of  his  few  years  at  school,  and  was  "always 
a  glutton  to  read."  ^  10 

While  Whittier  was  still  "a  barefoot  boy,"  a  copy  of  the 
poems  of  Robert  Burns  fell  into  his  hands.  The  glowing  lines  of 
the  great  Scottish  peasant  created  within  the  boy  a  desire  to 
become  a  poet.  This  desire  never  left  him,  and,  in  spite  of  pov- 
erty and  limited  education,  he  became  a  poet  of  no  mean  rank.       15 

His  first  verses,  according  to  a  family  tradition,  were  written 
on  the  beam  of  his  mother's  loom.  His  schoolmates  say  that  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  covering  his  slate  with  rhymes. 

In  later  life  a  friendship  with  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  the 
antislavery  agitator,  drew  him  fiercely  into  the  movement  against  20 
slavery,  and  for  some  years  his  body  and  mind  were  so  disturbed 
that  he  had  little  time  for  purely  literary  work. 

Later  on,  in  his  home  at  Amesbury,  comfortable  from  the 
sale  of  his  poems  and  enjoying  rest  after  the  storm,  he  wrote 
many  of  the  songs  and  poems  now  familiar  to  all  Americans.  25 

Blessings  on  thee,  little  man, 
Barefoot  boy,  with  cheek  of  tan ! 
With  thy  turned-up  pantaloons, 
And  thy  merry  whistled  tunes ; 


298  THE  HILL  READERS 

With  thy  red  hp,  redder  still 
Kissed  by  strawberries  on  the  hill ; 
With  the  sunshine  on  thy  face, 
Through  thy  torn  brim's  jaunty  grace ; 
5  From  my  heart  I  give  thee  joy,  — 

I  was  once  a  barefoot  boy  ! 
Prince  thou  art,  —  the  grown-up  man 
Only  is  republican. 
Let  the  million-dollared  ride ! 
10  Barefoot,  trudging  at  his  side. 

Thou  hast  more  than  he  can  buy 
In  the  reach  of  ear  and  eye,  — 
Outward  sunshine,  inward  joy  : 
Blessings  on  thee,  barefoot  boy  ! 

15  Oh  for  boyhood's  painless  play. 

Sleep  that  wakes  in  laughing  day. 
Health  that  mocks  the  doctor's  rules. 
Knowledge  never  learned  of  schools, 
Of  the  wild  bee's  morning  chase, 

20  Of  the  wild-flower's  time  and  place. 

Flight  of  fowl  and  habitude 
Of  the  tenants  of  the  wood ; 
How  the  tortoise  bears  his  shell. 
How  the  woodchuck  digs  his  cell, 

26  And  the  ground-mole  sinks  his  well ; 


BOOK  FOUR  299 

How  the  robin  feeds  her  young, 

How  the  oriole's  nest  is  hung ; 

Where  the  whitest  lilies  blow, 

Where  the  freshest  berries  grow, 

Where  the  ground-nut  trails  its  vine,  5 

Where  the  wood-grape's  clusters  shine ; 

Of  the  black  wasp's  cunning  way. 

Mason  of  his  walls  of  clay. 

And  the  architectural  plans 

Of  gray  hornet  artisans  !  10 

For,  eschewing  books  and  tasks,    ' 

Nature  answers  all  he  asks ; 

Hand  in  hand  with  her  he  walks. 

Face  to  face  with  her  he  talks. 

Part  and  parcel  of  her  joy,  —  15 

Blessings  on  the  barefoot  boy ! 

Oh  for  boyhood's  time  of  June, 

Crowding  years  in  one  brief  moon. 

When  all  things  I  heard  or  saw. 

Me,  their  master,  waited  for.  20 

I  was  rich  in  flowers  and  trees. 

Humming-birds  and  honey-bees ; 

For  my  sport  the  squirrel  played. 

Plied  the  snouted  mole  his  spade ; 

For  my  taste  the  blackberry  cone  25 


300  THE  HILL  READERS 

Purpled  over  hedge  and  stone ; 
Laughed  the  brook  for  my  delight 
Through  the  day  and  through  the  night, 
Whispering  at  the  garden  wall, 
5  Talked  with  me  from  fall  to  fall ; 

Mine  the  sand-rimmed  pickerel  pond, 
Mine  the  walnut  slopes  beyond, 
Mine,  on  bending  orchard  trees. 
Apples  of  Hesperides ! 
10  Still  as  my  horizon  grew, 

Larger  grew  my  riches  too ; 
All  the  world  I  saw  or  knew 
Seemed  a  complex  Chinese  toy. 
Fashioned  for  a  barefoot  boy  ! 

16  Oh  for  festal  dainties  spread, 

Like  my  bowl  of  milk  and  bread ; 
Pewter  spoon  and  bowl  of  wood. 
On  the  door-stone,  gray  and  rude ! 
O'er  me,  like  a  regal  tent, 

20  Cloudy-ribbed,  the  sunset  bent. 

Purple-curtained,  fringed  with  gold. 
Looped  in  many  a  wind-swung  fold  ; 
While  for  music  came  the  play 
Of  the  pied  frogs*  orchestra ; 

25  And,  to  light  the  noisy  choir, 


BOOK  FOUR  301 

Lit  the  fly  his  lamp  of  fire. 
I  was  monarch  :  pomp  and  joy 
Waited  on  the  barefoot  boy ! 

Cheerily,  then,  my  little  man, 

Live  and  laugh,  as  boyhood  can !  5 

Though  the  flinty  slopes  be  hard, 

Stubble-speared  the  new-mown  sward. 

Every  morn  shall  lead  thee  through 

Fresh  baptisms  of  the  dew ; 

Every  evening  from  thy  feet  10 

Shall  the  cool  wind  kiss  the  heat : 

All  too  soon  these  feet  must  hide 

In  the  prison  cells  of  pride. 

Lose  the  freedom  of  the  sod, 

Like  a  colt's  for  work  be  shod,  15 

Made  to  tread  the  mills  of  toil. 

Up  and  down  in  ceaseless  moil : 

Happy  if  their  track  be  found 

Never  on  forbidden  ground ; 

Happy  if  they  sink  not  in  20 

Quick  and  treacherous  sands  of  sin. 

Ah  !  that  thou  couldst  know  thy  joy. 

Ere  it  passes,  barefoot  boy  ! 

habitude:  habit,  way. — artisans:  workmen. — eschewing: 
avoiding.  —  apples  of  Hesperides :  fabled  apples  of  gold,  guarded 
by  the  daughters  of  Hesperus. 


302  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

GUDBKAND  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN 

There  once  lived  a  man  whose  name  was  Gud- 
brand ;  and  as  he  owned  a  farm  in  a  remote  spot 
on  the  slope  of  a  mountain,  people  called  him  Gud- 
brand  of  the  Mountain. 
5  He  lived  so  happily  with  his  wife,  and  they 
agreed  so  well,  that  she  thought  everything  her 
husband  did  was  for  the  best,  and  that  it  could 
not  have  been  improved  upon.  This  worthy  couple 
were  the  owners  of  a  piece  of  arable  land,  and 

10  had  a  hundred  dollars  in  their  strong  box,  besides 
a  couple  of  cows  in  the  stable.  One  day  the  wife 
said  to  Gudbrand :  "  I  think  that  we  might  take 
one  of  the  cows  to  town  and  sell  it,  for  we  ought 
to  have  a  few  shillings  in  our  purse  as  other  folk 

15  have,  particularly  as  we  don't  wish  to  touch  the 
hundred  dollars  in  the  chest.  And  really  I  don't 
know  what  we  should  want  with  more  than  one 
cow,  and  I  shall  be  the  gainer  by  having  only  one 
to  attend  to,  instead  of  being  bothered  with  two." 

20  Gudbrand  thought  this  was  all  very  reasonable 
and  very  proper ;  so  he  immediately  took  the  cow 
and  went  to  town  to  sell  it.  But  it  happened  that 
there  was  nobody  in  the  town  that  was  willing  to 
buy  the  cow. 


BOOK  FOUR  303 

"  Never  mind,"  thought  Gudbrand ;  "  I  '11  go 
home  again  with  my  cow ;  I  have  both  stable  and 
yoke  ready  for  her,  and  the  way  is  no  longer  going 
than  coming";  and  with  this  cheering  thought  he 
plodded  homewards  in  the  most  contented  mood. 

He  had  not  gone  far  before  he  met  a  man  with 
a  horse  that  he  wanted  to  sell.    Now  Gudbrand 


thought  it  was  better  to  have  a  horse  than  a  cow, 
so  he  made  an  exchange  with  the  stranger. 

When  he  had  gone  a  little  further  he  met  lo 
another  man,  who  was  driving  a  fat  pig  before 
him,  and  then  Gudbrand  thought  it  would  be  still 
better  to  have  a  fat  pig  than  a  horse,  and  so  he 
exchanged  with  the  man.  He  then  went  on,  and 
after  a  while  he  met  a  man  with  a  goat.  "It  is  15 
certainly  better  anyhow  to  have  a  goat  than  a 
pig,"  thought  Gudbrand;  and  again  he  made  an 


304  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

exchange  with  the  owner  of  the  goat.  He  now 
went  a  good  deal  further,  till  he  met  a  man  with 
a  sheep,  and  with  him  he  likewise  made  an  ex- 
change, on  the  principle  "  that  it  is  always  better 

5  to  have  a  sheep  than  a  goat."  On  going  further 
he  met  a  man  with  a  goose,  and  then  Gudbrand 
exchanged  his  sheep  against  the  goose.  After  this 
he  went  a  long,  long  way,  till  he  met  a  man  with 
a  cock,  and  he  once  more  made  an  exchange ;  for 

10  he  thought,  "After  all,  it  is  still  better  to  have  a 
cock  than  a  goose." 

He  then  walked  on  and  on  till  it  began  to  grow 
late,  when,  feeling  very  hungry,  he  sold  the  cock 
for  threepence,  with  which  he  bought  something 

15  to  eat ;  "  for  after  all,"  he  reasoned,  "  it  is  better  to 
bring  one's  self  back  safe  and  sound  than  to  bring 
home  a  cock."  He  then  sped  on  his  way,  till  he 
reached  the  farm  of  his  nearest  neighbor,  where 
in  he  went  just  as  the  plowboy  was  driving  home 

20  the  cattle. 

"Well,  how  did  you  fare  in  town?"  inquired 
the  good  folk. 

"  Why,  but  so-so,"  answered  Gudbrand.  "  I  can't 
say  much  for  my  luck,  neither  have  I  much  reason 

25  to  complain."  And  hereupon  he  related  all  that 
had  happened  from  beginning  to  end. 


BOOK  FOUR  305 

"  Well,  I  'm  sure  you  '11  get  a  warm  reception 
from  your  wife  when  you  reach  home,"  quoth  the 
farmer.    "  I  should  n't  like  to  be  in  your  shoes." 

"  Things  might  have  gone  worse,  however,"'  re- 
plied Gudbrand,  "  and  I  have  such  an  excellent  wife    s 
that  she  never  scolds  me,  let  me  do  what  I  will." 

"That  may  be,"  said  the  man;  "yet  somehow 
I  can't  believe  it." 

"  I  will  wager  a  hundred  dollars,"  said  Gudbrand. 

"  Done  !  "  said  the  neigiibor ;  and  as  twilight  lo 
was  now  coming  on,  they  both  set  out  for  Gud- 
brand's  farm.  When  they  had  reached  it  the 
neighbor  remained  outside  the  door,  while  Gud- 
brand went  in  to  his  wife,  and  they  began  to  talk 
in  the  following  manner.  15 

"  Good  evening,"  said  Gudbrand  of  the  Moun- 
tain, as  he  walked  into  the  room. 

"Good  evening,"  replied  the  wife.  "Praised  be 
God  !    You  are  come  back  again,  are  you  ?  " 

Sure  enough,  he  was  back.     Then  the  wife  in-  20 
quired  how  he  had  got  on  in  town.    "But  so-so," 
answered  Gudbrand.    "  I  can't  much  boast  of  my 
luck.     On  reaching  town  nobody  would  purchase 
my  cow,  so  I  changed  it  for  a  horse." 

"Aye  ;  there,  indeed,  you  do  deserve  my  thanks,"  25 
said  she.    "  We  are  so  well  oft*  that  we  may  as  well 


306  THE  HILL  READERS 

drive  to  church  as  other  people;  and  if  we  have 
the  means  of  getting  ourselves  a  horse,  why  should 
not  we  ?    Pray,  goodman,  go  and  bring  him  in." 
^^  Well,"  replied  Gudbrand,  "  I  have  n't  the  horse 

5  exactly,  for,  after  going  on  a  bit,  I  changed  it  for 
a  pig." 

^^  No  !  did  you  ?  "  cried  the  wife.  "  Why,  that 's 
the  very  thing  I  should  have  done  myself !  Thank 
you  a  thousand  times,  my  dear  husband.    Now  I 

10  shall  have  some  bacon  in  the  house  to  offer  the 
folk  that  come  to  see  us.  What,  indeed,  do  we 
want  with  a  horse  ?  People  would  only  say  that 
we  had  grown  too  grand  to  walk  to  church  as  we 
used  to  do.    Prithee,  go  and  fetch  in  the  pig." 

15  "  But  I  have  n't  the  pig  any  more  than  I  have 
the  horse,"  said  Gudbrand ;  "  for,  on  going  some- 
what further,  I  changed  it  for  a  milch  goat." 

"  Why,  \)srhat  capital  notions  you  always  have !  " 
exclaimed  the  wife  ;  "  for  when  I  come  to  think  of 

20  it,  what  do  we  want  with  a  pig?    People  would 

only  say,  '  They  are  eating  up  their  substance.' 

But  now  I  have  a   goat,  I  can   have   milk   and 

cheese,  and  without  parting  with  the  goat  either." 

"  But  I  have  n't  any  goat  either,"  answered  Gud- 

25  brand;  "for  on  going  a  little  further,  I  changed 
the  goat  for  an  excellent  sheep." 


BOOK  FOUR  307 

"Now,  did  you?"  cried  the  wife.  "Well,  to 
be  sure,  you  have  done  everything  that  I  could 
have  wished,  just  as  if  I  had  been  at  your  elbow 
all  the  time.  What,  indeed,  should  we  want  a 
goat  for  ?  I  should  have  always  been  running  5 
after  it,  and  climbing  up  hill  and  down  dale.  But 
with  a  sheep,  I  shall  not  only  have  wool  to  make 
clothes  with  but  something  to  eat  into  the  bargain. 
So  prithee,  goodman,  go  and  fetch  the  sheep  in." 

"  But  I  no  longer  have  the  sheep,"  said  Gud-  lo 
brand  ;  "  for,  when  I  had  gone  a  little  further,  I 
exchanged  it  for  a  goose." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  a  thousand  times  over  for  that ! " 
cried  the  wife  ;  "  for  what  could  I  have  done  with 
the  sheep  ?  I  have  neither  distaff  nor  spindle,  nor  is 
do  I  want  them  either,  for  we  can  just  as  well  go 
on  buying  as  we  have  done  hitherto.  And  now  I 
shall  have  an  opportunity  of  tasting  a  bit  of  goose, 
which  I  have  hankered  after  so  long,  and  of  stuff- 
ing my  pillows  with  down.  So  now,  goodman,  go  20 
and  fetch  in  the  goose." 

"Aye,  but  I  have  no  goose  to  fetch,"  replied 
Gudbrand;  "for,  after  going  a  little  further,  I 
changed  it  for  a  cock." 

"  Only  think  now  of  your  hitting  on  the  very  25 
thing  I  should  have  chosen !  "  exclaimed  the  wife. 


308  THE  HILL  READERS 

"  Why,  a  cock  is  for  all  the  world  as  good  as  if  you 
had  bought  an  alarm  watch,  for  the  cock  crows 
every  morning  at  four  o'clock,  and  so  we  shall  be 
sure  to  be  stirring  betimes.   .After  all,  we  did  not 

5  want  a  goose,  for  I  don't  know  how  to  dress  goose's 
flesh ;  and  as  to  my  pillow,  I  can  stuff  it  with  sea- 
weeds just  as  well.  So  go  your  ways,  goodman, 
and  fetch  the  cock." 

"  But  I  have  no  cock  either,"  said  Gudbrand ; 

10  "  for,  after  going  somewhat  further,  I  felt  so  tre- 
mendously hungry  that  I  sold  the  cock  for  three- 
pence, in  order  to  be  able  to  come  home  alive." 

^^And  right  well  did  you  do!"  cried  the  wife. 
"  Let  you  set  about  what  you  will,  you  are  sure 

15  to  do  everything  just  to  my  liking.  What  does  it 
matter  whether  we  have  a  cock  or  not  ?  Surely  we 
are  our  own  masters,  and  can  lie  in  bed  of  a  morn- 
ing as  long  as  we  please.  And  now,  thank  God 
that  I  have  got  you  back  again,  —  you  who  are  so 

20  clever  at  everything,  —  I  want  no  cock,  or  goose, 
or  pig,  or  cow." 

Gudbrand  now  opened  the  door.  "  Have  I  won 
the  hundred  dollars  ?  "  cried  he.  And  the  neighbor 
was  forced  to  own  that  he  fairly  had. 

From  an  old  legend 
arable  :  fit  for  plowing.  —  quoth  :  said. 


BOOK  FOUR  309 

THE  GRASSHOPPER  AND  THE  CRICKET 

John  Keats 

John  Keats  (1795-1821),  one  of  the  most  imaginative  of 
English  poets,  was  born  in  London.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  he 
began  the  study  of  medicine,  but  he  soon  gave  up  his  profession. 

Keats's  Endymion,  published  when  he  was  twenty-two,  was 
severely  criticised.  His  next  volume,  containing  the  exquisite  5 
Eve  of  St.  Agnes,  Hyperion,  To  a  Nightingale,  etc.,  was  received 
with  general  favor.  But  the  brilliant  young  poet  was  already 
dying  with  consumption.  He  went  to  Xaples  and  Rome  only  to 
find  a  foreign  grave,  over  which  he  asked  that  this  inscription 
be  put :  "  Here  lies  one  whose  name  was  writ  in  watejr ."  10 

The  poetry  of  earth  is  never  dead : 

When  all  the  birds  are  faint  with  the  hot  sun, 
And  hide  in  cooling  trees,  a  voice  will  run 

From  hedge  to  hedge  about  the  new-mown  mead ; 

That  is  the  Grasshopper's  —  he  takes  the  lead  is 

In  summer  luxury,  —  he  has  never  done 
With  his  delights ;  for  when  tired  out  with  fun, 

He  rests  at  ease  beneath  some  pleasant  weed. 

The  poetry  of  earth  is  ceasing  never : 

On  a  lone  winter  evening,  when  the  frost  20 

Has  wrought  a  silence,  from  the  stove  there 
shrills 

The  Cricket's  song,  in  warmth  increasing  ever. 
And  seems  to  one,  in  drowsiness  half  lost. 

The  Grasshopper's  among  some  grassy  hills.       25 


310  THE  HILL  READEKS 

THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  MASON 
Washington  Irving 

Washington  Irving  (1783-1859),  charmingly  imaginative 
and  creative  as  a  story-teller  and  delightful  as  a  biographer  and 
historian,  was  the  first  American  author  to  win  European  admi- 
ration. Although  his  early  home  was  a  home  of  love,  yet  so 
5  strict  were  the  religious  ideas  of  his  stern  Presbyterian  father 
that  Irving  says,  "  I  was  led  to  think  that  everything  which  was 
pleasant  was  sinful."  The  lad's  delicate  health  forbade  a  college 
training,  but  an  early  familiarity  with  good  literature  and  an 
intense  love  for  reading  made  up  in  part  for  the  lack  of  system - 

10  atic  training. 

Irving 's  humorous  Knickerbocker's  History  of  New  York,  '*  a 
piece  of  rollicking  fun,"  followed  in  1819  by  the  Sketch-Book, 
containing  his  inimitable  Rip  Van  Winkle  and  The  Legend  of 
Sleepy  Hollow,  made  his  a  household  name  among  all  the  English- 

15  speaking  nations.  Bracehridge  Hall,  Tales  of  a  Traveler,  Life  and 
Voyages  of  Columbus,  The  Conquest  of  Granada,  The  Companions 
of  Columbus,  The  Alhambra,  following  his  first  book  in  steady 
succession,  sustained  his  reputation.  Among  his  later  books  are 
Astoria,  Adventures  of  Captain  Bonneville,  and  lives  of  Goldsmith 

20  and  Mahomet.  He  closed  his  brilliant  career  with  a  life  of 
Washington,  for  whom  he  was  named. 

There  was  once  upon  a  time  a  poor  mason,  or 

bricklayer,  in  Granada,  who  kept  all  the  saints' 

days  and  holidays,  and  St.  Monday  into  the  bar- 

25  gain,   and   yet,   with   all   his   devotion,  he   grew 

•    poorer  and  poorer,  and  could  scarcely  earn  bread 

for    his    numerous   family.     One    night    he    was 


BOOK  FOUR  311 

.roused  from  his  first  sleep  by  a  knocking  at  his 
door.  He  opened  it  and  beheld  before  him  a  tall, 
thin,  cadaverous-looking  priest. 

"Hark  ye,  honest  friend,"   said  the  stranger; 
"I  have  observed  that  you  are  a  good  Christian,    5 
and  one  to  be  trusted.    Will  you  undertake  a  job 
this  very  night?" 

"  With  all  my  heart,  Senor  Padre,  on  condition 
that  I  am  paid  accordingly." 

"  That  you  shall  be ;  but  you  must  suffer  your-  10 
self  to  be  blindfolded." 

To  this  the  mason  made  no  objection;    so,  be- 
ing hoodwinked,  he  was  led  by  the  priest  through 
various  rough  lanes  and  winding  passages,  until 
they  stopped  before  the  door   of   a    house.    The  15 
priest  then  applied  a  key,  turned  a  creaking  lock, 
and  opened  what  sounded  like  a  ponderous  door. 
They  entered,  the  door  was  closed  and  bolted,  and 
the  mason  was  led  through  an  echoing  corridor 
and   a   spacious  hall,  to  an  interior  part  of   the  20 
building.    Here  the  bandage  was   removed   from 
his  eyes,  and  he  found  himself  in  a  patio,  or  court, 
dimly  lighted  by  a  single   lamp.    In  the   center 
was  the  dry  basin  of  an  old  Moorish   fountain, 
under  which  the  priest  requested  him  to  form  a  25 
small   vault,   bricks   and   mortar  being   at   hand 


312 


THE  HILL  READERS 


for  the  purpose.  He  accordingly  worked  all  night, 
but  without  finishing  the  job.  Just  before  day- 
break the  priest  put  a  piece  of  gold  into  his  hand, 
and,  having  again  blindfolded  him,  conducted  him 
5  back  to  his  dwelling. 


"  Are  you  willing,"   said  he,    "  \jo   return   and 
complete  your  work  ?  " 

"  Gladly,  Senor  Padre,  provided  I  am  so  well 
paid." 
10      ^'  Well,  then,  to-morrow  at  midnight  I  will  call 
again." 

He  did  so,  and  the  vault  was  completed.  * 


BOOK  FOUR  313 

,  "Now,"  said  the  priest,  "you  must  help  me 
to  bring  forth  the  bodies  that  are  to  be  buried  in 
this  vault." 

The  poor   mason's   hair   rose   on   his   head   at 
these  words.    He  followed  the  priest,  with  trem-   5 
bling  steps,  into  a  retired  chamber  of  the  mansion, 
expecting  to  behold  some  ghastly  spectacle  of  death, 
but  was   relieved  on  seeing  three  or  four  portly 
jars  standing  in  one  corner.    They  were  evidently 
full  of  money,  and  it  was  with   great  labor  that  10 
he  and  the  priest  carried  them  forth  and-  put  them 
in  their  tomb.     The  vault  was  then  closed,  the 
pavement  replaced,  and  all  traces  of  the  work  were 
blotted  out.    The  mason  was  again   hoodwinked 
and  led  forth  by  a  route  different  from  that  by  15 
which  he  had  come.    After  they  had  wandered  for 
a  long  time  through  a  perplexed  maze  of  lanes 
and  alleys  they  halted.    The  priest  then  put  two 
pieces  of  gold  into  his  hand.    "  Wait  here,"  said 
he,   "until   you  hear  the   cathedral  bell  toll   for  20 
matins.    If  you  presume  to  uncover  your  eyes  be- 
fore that  time,  evil  will  befall  you."    So  saying,  he 
departed.     The    mason   waited    faithfully,    amus- 
ing himself  by  weighing  the  gold  pieces   in  his 
hand  and  clinking  them  against  each  other.    The  25 
moment  the  cathedral  bell   rang  its   matin   peal 


314  THE  HILL  KEADEKS 

he  uncovered  his  eyes  and  found  himself  on  the 
banks  of  the  Xenil,  whence  he  made  the  best  of 
his  way  home,  and  reveled  with  his  family  for  a 
whole  fortnight  on  the  profits  of  his  two  nights' 

5  work ;  after  which  he  was  as  poor  as  ever. 

He  continued  to  work  a  little,  and  pray  a  good 

deal,  and  keep  saints'  days  and  holidays,  from  year 

.  to  year,  while  his  family  grew  vip  as  gaunt  and 

ragged  as  a  crew  of  gypsies.    As  he  was  seated  one 

10  evening  at  the  door  of  his  hovel,  he  was  accosted 
by  a  rich  old  curmudgeon,  who  was  noted  for  own- 
ing many  houses  and  being  a  griping  landlord. 
The  man  of  money  eyed  him  for  a  moment  from 
beneath  a  pair  of  anxious,  shaggy  eyebrows. 

15       "  I  am  told,  friend,  that  you  are  very  poor." 

"  There  is  no  denying  the  fact,  seiior ;  it  speaks 
for  itself." 

"  I  presume,  then,  that  you  will  be  glad  of  a 
job,  and  will  work  cheap." 

20  "  As  cheap,  my  master,  as  any  mason  you  can 
find  in  Granada." 

"  That 's  what  I  want.  I  have  an  old  house 
fallen  into  decay,  which  costs  me  more  money  than 
it  is  worth  to  keep  it  in  repair,  for  nobody  will  live 

25  in  it ;  so  I  must  contrive  to  patch  it  up  and  keep 
it  together  at  as  small  expense  as  possible." 


BOOK  FOUR  315 

The  mason  was  accordingly  conducted  to  a  large 
deserted  house  that  seemed  going  to  ruin.  Pass- 
ing through  several  empty  halls  and  chambers,  he 
entered  an  inner  court,  where  his  eye  was  caught 
by  an  old  Moorish  fountain.  He  paused  for  a  mo-  5 
ment,  for  a  dreaming  recollection  of  the  place  came 
over  him. 

"Pray,"  said  he,  "who  occupied  this  house  for- 
merly ?  " 

"  A  pest  upon  him  !  "  cried  the  landlord ;  "  it  was  lo 
an  old  miserly  priest,  who  cared  for  nobody  but 
himself.    He  was  said  to  be  immensely  rich,  and, 
having  no  relations,  it  was  thought  he  would  leave 
all  his  treasures  to  the  church.    He  died  suddenly, 
and  some  church  officers  went  to  take  possession  15 
of  his  wealth  ;  but  nothing  could  they  find  but  a 
few  ducats  in  a  leathern  purse.    The  worst  luck 
has  fallen  on  me,  for,  since  his  death,  the  old  fellow 
continues  to  occupy  my  house  without  paying  rent, 
and  there  is  no  taking  the  law  of  a  dead  man.  20 
The  people  pretend  to  hear  the  clinking  of  gold  all 
night  in  the  chamber  where  the  old  priest  slept,  as 
if  he  were  counting  over  his  money,  and  sometimes 
a  groaning  and  a  moaning  about  the  coT*irt.  Whether 
true  or  false,  these  stories  have  brought  a  bad  name  25 
on  my  house,  and  not  a  tenant  will  remain  in  it." 


316  THE  HILL  READERS 

"  Enough,"  said  the  mason  sturdily.  "  Let  me 
live  in  your  house  rent  free  until  some  better  ten- 
ant presents  himself,  and  I  will  engage  to  put  it 
in  repair  and  to  quiet  the  troubled  spirit  that  dis- 

5  turbs  it.  I  am  a  good  Christian  and  a  poor  man, 
and  am  not  to  be  daunted  by  the  devil  himself,  even 
though  he  come  in  the  shape  of  a  big  bag  of  money." 
The  offer  of  the  honest  mason  was  gladly  ac- 
cepted ;  he  moved  with  his  family  into  the  house 

10  and  fulfilled  all  his  engagements.  By  little  and 
little  he  restored  it  to  its  former  state;  the  clink- 
ing of  gold  was  no  more  heard  at  night  in  the 
chamber  of  the  dead  priest,  but  began  to  be  heard 
by  day  in  the  pocket  of  the  living  mason.     In  a 

15  word,  he  increased  rapidly  in  wealth,  to  the  admi- 
ration of  all  his  neighbors,  and  became  one  of  the 
richest  men  in  Granada.  He  gave  large  sums  to  the 
church,  by  way,  no  doubt,  of  satisfying  his  con- 
science, and  never  revealed  the  secret  of  the  vault 

20  until  on  his  deathbed  to  his  son  and  heir. 

cadaverous:  pale,  ghastly. — SeSor  Padre:  a  title  of  respect 
applied  to  priests.  In  English  we  say  simply  Father.  —  hood- 
winked: blindfolded.  —  ponderous:  heavy.  —  was  accosted:  was 
spoken  to.  —  curmudgeon:  a  miserly  fellow.  —  taking  the  law: 
going  to  law.  —  daunted:  frightened. 


BOOK  FOUR  317 

HOW  ROBIN  HOOD  SHOT  BEFORE  QUEEN 
ELEANORS 

Howard  Pyle 

Howard  Pyle  (1853-  ),  artist  and  author,  was  born  in 
Wilmington,  Delaware.  He  studied  art  in  New  York,  and  early 
began  to  furnish  the  periodical  press  with  illustrated  articles  in 
both  verse  and  prose.  The  Merry  Adventures  of  Robin  Hood,  from 
which  the  following  selection  is  taken,  is  deservedly  popular  with  5 
a  host  of  young  readers. 

And  now  the  fame  of  Robin  Hood  had  spread 
far  and  wide,  until  at  last  it  reached  even  to  the 
ears  of  Queen  Eleanor  in  famous  London  Town. 
"  Fain  would  I  see  this  bold  yeoman,"  quoth  she  ;  lo 
"  and  fain  would  I  behold  his  skill  with  the  long- 
bow of  which  we  have  heard  so  much." 

Under  the  greenwood  tree,  in  the  cool  shade 
that  spread  all  around  upon  the  sward,  with  flicker- 
ing lights  here  and  there,  Robin  Hood  and  many  15 
of  his  band  lay  upon  the  soft  green  grass,  whilst 
Allan-a-Dale,  the  sweet-singing  minstrel  of  the 
band,  sang  and  played  upon  his  harp.  All  listened 
in  silence,  for  young  Allan's  singing  was  one  of 
the  greatest  joys  in  all  the  world  to  them.    But  as  20 

1  From  The  Merry  Adventures  of  Robin  Hood.     Copyright,  1905. 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  Publishers. 


318  THE  HILL   KEADEKS 

they  so  listened  there  came  of  a  sudden  a  sound  of 
horses'  feet,  and  presently  Little  John  and  Will 
Stutly  came  forth  from  the  forest  path  into  the 
open  glade,  a  beautiful  young  page,  gay  with  crim- 

5  son  and  gold,  riding  between  them  upon  a  milk- 
white  horse.  The  three  came  toward  where  Robin 
Hood  sat,  all  the  band  staring  with  might  and 
main,  for  never  had  they  seen  so  gay  a  sight  as 
this  young  page,  nor  one  so  richly  clad  in  silks 

10  and  velvets  and  gold  and   jewels.     Then   Robin 

Hood  arose  and  stepped  forth  to  meet  him,  and 

the  other  leaped  from  his  horse,  and,  doffing  his 

cap  of  crimson  velvet,  met  Robin  as  he  came. 

"  Now  welcome  !  "  cried  Robin.  "  Now  welcome, 

15  fair  youth;  and  tell  me,  I  prithee,  what  bringeth 
one  of  so  fair  a  presence  and  clad  in  such  noble 
garb  to  our  poor  forest  of  Sherwood." 

Then  the  youth  said :  "  If  I  err  not,  thou  art 
the  famous  Robin  Hood,  and  these  thy  stout  band 

20  of  outlawed  yeomen.  I  am  Richard  Partington, 
and  page  to  her  Royal  Majesty.  To  thee  I  bring 
greeting  from  our  noble  Queen  Eleanor.  Oft  hath 
she  heard  thee  spoken  of  and  thy  merry  doings 
hereabouts,  and  fain  would  she  behold  thy  face; 

25  therefore  she  bids  me  tell  thee  that  if  thou  wilt 
presently  come  to  London  Town,  she  will  do  all  in 


BOOK  FOUR  M9 

her  power  to  guard  thee  against  harm,  and  will 
send  thee  back  safe  to  Sherwood  Forest  again. 
Four  days  hence,  in  Finsbury  Fields,  our  good  King 
Henry,  of  great  renown,  holdeth  a  grand  shooting 
match,  and  all  the  most  famous  archers  of  merry  s 
England  will  be  thereat.  Our  Queen  would  fain 
see  thee  strive  with  these,  knowing  that  if  thou 
wilt  come,  thou  wilt,  with  httle  doubt,  carry  off  the 
prize.  Therefore  she  hath  sent  me  with  this  greet- 
ing, and  furthermore  sends  thee,  as  a  sign  of  great  lo 
good  will,  this  golden  ring  from  off  her  own  fair 
thumb,  which  I  give  herewith  into  thy  hands." 

Then  Robin  Hood  bowed  his  head,  and,  taking 
the  ring,  kissed  it  right  loyally,  and  then  slipped 
it  upon  his  little  finger.  Quoth  he,  "  Sooner  would  is 
I  lose  my  life  than  this  ring ;  and  ere  it  departs 
from  me,'  my  hand  shall  be  cold  in  death  or 
stricken  off  at  the  wrist.  Fair  Sir  Page,  I  will 
do  our  Queen's  bidding." 

Then  Little  John  and  Will  Scarlet  and  Allan-a-  20 
Dale  ran  leaping,  full  of  joy,  to  make  themselves 
ready,  whilst  Robin  also  prepared  himself  for  the 
journey.  After  a  while  they  all  four  came  forth, 
and  a  right  fair  sight  they  made,  for  Robin  was 
clad  in  blue  from  head  to  foot,  and  Little  John  and  25 
Will  Scarlet  in  good  Lincoln  green,  and  as  for 


320  THE  HILL  READERS 

Allan-a-Dale,  he  was  dressed  in  scarlet  from  the 
crown  of  his  head  to  the  toes  of  his  pointed  shoes. 
Each  man  wore  beneath  his  cap  a  little  head  cov- 
ering of  burnished  steel  set  with  rivets  of  gold,  and 

5  underneath  his  jerkin  a  coat  of  linked  mail  as  fine 
as  carded  wool,  yet  so  tough  that  no  arrow  could 
pierce  it.  Then,  seeing  all  were  ready,  young  Par- 
tington mounted  his  horse  again,  and,  the  yeomen 
having  shaken  hands  all  around,  the  five  departed 

10  upon  their  way. 

Queen  Eleanor  sat  in  her  royal  bower,  through 
the  open  casements  of  which  poured  the  sweet  yel- 
low sunshine  in  great  floods  of  golden  light.  To 
her  came  one  who  said  that  her  page,  Richard 

15  Partington,  and  four  stout  yeomen  waited  her 
pleasure  in  the  court  below.  Then  Queen  Eleanor 
arose  joyously  and  bade  them  be  straightway 
shown  into  her  presence. 

Thus  Robin   Hood  and  Little   John  and  Will 

20  Scarlet  and  -Allan-a-Dale  came  before  the  Queen 
into  her  own  royal  bower.  Then  Robin  kneeled 
before  the  Queen  with  his  hands  folded  upon  his 
breast,  saying,  in  simple  phrase :  "  Here  am  I, 
Robin  Hood.     Thou  didst  bid  me  come,  and  lo !  I 

25  do  thy  bidding.    I  give  myself  to  thee  as  thy  true 


BOOK  FOUR  321 

servant,  and  will  do  thy  commanding,  even  if  it  be 
to  the  shedding  of  the  last  drop  of  my  life's  blood." 
But  good  Queen  Eleanor  smiled  pleasantly  upon 
him,  bidding  him  to  arise;  then  she  made  them 
all  be  seated  to  rest  themselves  after  their  long  5 
journey.  Rich  food  was  brought  them  and  noble 
wines,  and  she  had  her  own  pages  to  wait  upon 
the  wants  of  the  yeomen.  At  last,  after  they  had 
eaten  all  they  could,  she  began  questioning  them 
of  their  merry  adventures.  Then  they  told  her  all  10 
of  the  lusty  doings  herein  spoken  of,  and  the  Queen 
and  the  ladies  about  her  laughed  again  and  again 
at  the  joyous  stories.  Then,  when  they  had  told 
all  that  they  could  bring  to  mind,  the  Queen 
asked  Allan  to  sing  to  her,  for  his  fame  as  a  min-  15 
strel  had  reached  even  to  the  court  at  London 
Town;  and  Allan  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and  the 
Queen  and  her  ladies  listened  in  silence. 

A  gay  sight  were  famous  Finsbury  Fields  on 
that  bright  and  sunny  morning  of  lusty  summer  20 
time.  Along  the  end  of  the  meadow  stood  the 
booths  for  the  different  bands  of  archers,  for  the 
King's  yeomen  were  divided  into  companies  of 
four  score  men,  and  each  company  had  a  captain 
over  it;    so  on  the  bright  greensward  stood  ten  25 


322 


BOOK  FOUR  323 

booths  of  striped  canvas,  a  booth  lor  each  band 
of  the  royal  archers,  and  at  the  peak  of  each 
fluttered  a  flag  in  the  mellow  air,  and  the  flag  was 
the  color  that  belonged  to  the  captain  of  each 
band.  From  the  center  booth  hung  the  yellow  5 
flag  of  Tepus,  the  famous  bow  bearer  of  the  King ; 
next  to  it,  on  one  hand,  was  the  blue  flag  of  Gil- 
bert of  the  White  Hand,  and  on  the  other  the 
blood-red  pennant  of  stout  young  Clifton  of  Buck- 
inghamshire. The  seven  other  archer  captains  lo 
were  also  men  of  great  renown ;  among  them 
were  Egbert  of  Kent  and  William  of  Southampton ; 
but  those  first  named  were  most  famous  of  all. 
The  noise  of  many  voices  in  talk  and  laughter 
came  from  within  the  booths,  and  in  and  out  ran  is 
the  attendants  like  ants  about  an  ant-hill.  On 
each  side  of  the  archery  range  were  rows  upon 
rows  of  seats  reaching  high  aloft,  and  in  the  center 
of  the  north  side  was  a  raised  dais  for  the  King 
and  Queen,  shaded  by  canvas  of  gay  colors,  and  20 
hung  about  with  streaming  silken  pennants  of  red 
and  blue  and  green  and  white.  As  yet  the  King 
and  Queen  had  not  come,  but  all  the  other  benches 
were  full  of  people,  rising  head  above  head  high 
aloft  till  it  made  the  eye  dizzy  to  look  upon  them.  25 
Eight  score  yards  distant  from  the  mark  from 


324  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

which  the  archers  were  to  shoot  stood  ten  fair 
targets,  each  target  marked  by  a  flag  of  the  color 
belonging  to  the  band  that  was  to  shoot  thereat. 
So  all  was  ready  and  all  waited  for  the  coming  of 

5  the  King  and  Queen. 

At  last  a  great  blast  of  bugles  sounded,  and  into 
the  meadow  came  riding  six  trumpeters,  with  silver 
trumpets,  from  which  hung  velvet  banners  heavy 
with   rich  workings   of   silver   and   gold   thread. 

10  Behind  these  came  stout  King  Henry  upon  a 
dapple-gray  stallion,  with  his  Queen  beside  him 
upon  a  milk-white  palfrey.  On  either  side  of  them 
walked  the  yeomen  of  the  guard,  the  bright  sun- 
light flashing  from  the  polished  blades  of  the  steel 

15  halberds  they  carried.  Behind  these  came  the 
Court  in  a  great  crowd,  so  that  presently  all  the 
lawn  was  alive  with  bright  colors,  with  silk  and 
velvet,  with  waving  plumes  and  gleaming  gold, 
with  flashing  jewels  and  sword  hilts;   a  gallant 

20  sight  on  that  bright  summer  day. 

Then  all  the  people  arose  and  shouted,  so  that 
their  voices  sounded  like  the  storm  upon  the  Cor- 
nish coast,  when  the  dark  waves  run  upon  the  shore 
and  leap  and  break,  surging  amid  the  rocks ;  so, 

25  amid  the  roaring  and  the  surging  of  the  people, 
and  the  waving  of  scarfs  and  kerchiefs,  the  King 


BOOK  FOUR  325 

and  Queen  came  to  their  place,  and,  getting  down 
from  their  horses,  mounted  the  broad  stairs  that 
led  to  the  raised  platform,  and  there  took  their 
seats  on  two  thrones  bedecked  with  purple  silks 
and  cloths  of  silver  and  gold.  5 

When  all  was  quiet  a  bugle  sounded,  and 
straightway  the  archers  came  marching  in  order 
from  their  tents.  Forty  score  they  were  in  all,  as 
stalwart  a  band  of  yeomen  as  could  be  found  in 
all  the  wide  world.  So  they  came  in  orderly  fash-  10 
ion  and  stood  in  front  of  the  dais  where  King 
Henry  and  his  Queen  sat.  King  Henry  looked 
up  and  down  their  ranks  right  proudly,  for  his 
heart  warmed  within  him  at  the  sight  of  such  a 
gallant  band  of  yeomen.  Then  he  bade  his  herald,  15 
Sir  Hugh  de  Mowbray,  stand  forth  and  proclaim 
the  rules  governing  the  game.  So  Sir  Hugh  stepped 
to  the  edge  of  the  platform  and  spoke  in  a  loud, 
clear  voice,  so  that  they  could  hear  him  even  to 
the  ends  of  the  range,  and  thus  he  said :  20 

That  each  man  should  shoot  seven  arrows  at 
the  target  that  belonged  to  his  band,  and,  of  the 
four  score  yeomen  of  each  band,  the  three  that  shot 
the  best  should  be  chosen.  These  three  should  shoot 
three  arrows  apiece,  and  the  one  that  shot  the  best  25 
should  again  be  chosen.    Then  each  of  these  should 


326  THE  HILL  READERS 

again  shoot  three  arrows  apiece,  and  the  one  that 
shot  the  best  should  have  the  first  prize,  the  one 
that  shot  the  next  best  should  have  the  second, 
and  the  one  that  shot  the  next  best  should  have 

5  the  third  prize.  Each  of  the  others  should  have 
four  score  silver  pennies  for  his  shooting.  The  first 
prize  was  to  be  two  score  and  ten  golden  pounds, 
a  silver  bugle  horn  inlaid  with  gold,  and  a  quiver 
with  ten  white  arrows  tipped  with  gold  and  feath- 

10  ered  with  white  swan's  wing  therein.  The  sec- 
ond prize  was  to  be  five  score  of  the  fattest  bucks 
that  run  on  Dallen  Lea,  to  be  shot  when  the  yeo- 
man that  won  them  chose.  The  third  was  to  be 
two  tuns  of  good  Rhenish  wine. 

15  So  Sir  Hugh  spoke,  and  when  he  had  done  all 
the  archers  waved  their  bows  aloft  and  shouted. 
Then  each  band  turned  and  marched  in  order 
back  to  its  place. 

And  now  the  shooting  began,  the  captains  first 

20  taking  stand  and  speeding  their  shafts  and  then 
making  room  for  the  men,  who  shot,  each  in  turn, 
after  them.  Two  hundred  and  eighty  score  shafts 
were  shot  in  all,  and  so  deftly  were  they  sped  that 
when  the  shooting  was  done  each  target  looked  like 

25  the  back  of  a  hedgehog  when  the  farm  dog  snuffs 
at  it.    A  long  time  was  taken  in  this  shooting, 


•       BOOK  FOUR  327 

and  when  it  was  over  the  judges  came  forward, 
looked  carefully  at  the  targets,  and  proclaimed  in 
a  loud  voice  which  three  had  shot  the  best  from 
the  separate  bands.  Then  a  great  hubbub  of  voices 
arose,  each  man  among  the  crowd  that  looked  on  5 
calling  for  his  favorite  archer.  Then  ten  fresh  tar- 
gets were  brought  forward,  and  every  sound  was 
hushed  as  the  archers  took  their  places  once  more. 

This  time  the  shooting  was  more  speedily  done, 
for  only  nine  shafts  were  shot  by  each  band.    Not  10 
an  arrow  missed  the  targets,  but  in  that  of  Gilbert 
of  the  White  Hand  five  arrows  were  in  the  small 
white  spot  that  marked  the  center;  of  these,  three 
were  sped  by  Gilbert.    The  judges  came  forward 
again,  and,  looking  at  the  targets,  called  aloud  the  is 
name  of  the  archer  chosen  as  the  best  bowman  of 
each  band.    Of  these  Gilbert  of  the  White  Hand  led, 
for  six  of  the  ten  arrows  he  had  shot  had  lodged 
in  the  center ;  but  stout  Tepus  and  young  Clifton 
trod  close  upon  his  heels ;  yet  the  others  stood  a  20 
fair  chance  for  the  second  or  third  place. 

Now,  amid  the  roaring  of  the  crowd,  the  ten 
stout  fellows  that  were  left  went  back  to  their  tents 
to  rest  for  a  while  and  change  their  bowstrings,  for 
naught  must  fail  at  this  next  round,  and  no  hand  25 
must  tremble  or  eye  grow  dim  because  of  weariness. 


328  THE  HILL  READERS 

Then  whilst  the  deep  buzz  and  hum  of  talking 
sounded  all  around  like  the  noise  of  the  wind  in 
the  leafy  forest,  Queen  Eleanor  turned  to  the  King, 
and  quoth  she,  "  Thinkest  thou  that  these  young 

5  yeomen  so  chosen  are  the  very  best  archers  in  all 
merry  England  ?  " 

"  Yea,  truly,"  said  the  King,  smiling,  for  he  was 
well  pleased  with  the  sport  that  he  had  seen;  "  and 
I  tell  thee  that  not  only  are  they  the  best  archers 

10  in  all  merry  England  but  in  all  the  wide  world 
beside." 

"But  what  wouldst  thou  say,"  quoth  Queen 
Eleanor,  "  if  I  were  to  find  three  archers  to  match 
the  best  three  yeomen  of  all  thy  guard  ?" 

15       "  I  would  say  thou  hast  done  what  I  could  not  do," 

said  the  King,  laughing ;  "  for  I  tell  thee  there  lives 

not  in  all  the  world  three  archers  to  match  Tepus 

and  Gilbert  and  Clifton  of  Buckinghamshire." 

"Now,"  said  the  Queen,  "I  know  of  three  yeo- 

20  men,  and  in  truth  I  have  seen  them  not  long  since, 
that  I  would  not  fear  to  match  against  any  three 
that  thou  canst  choose  from  among  all  thy  forty 
score  archers ;  and,  moreover,  I  will  match  them 
here  this  very  day.    But  I  will  only  match  them 

25  with  thy  archers,  providing  that  thou  wilt  grant 
a  free  pardon  to  all  that  may  come  in  my  behalf." 


BOOK  FOUR  329 

At  this  the  King  laughed  loud  and  long.  "  Truly," 
said  he,  "  thou  art  taking  up  with  strange  matters 
for  a  queen.  If  thou  wilt  bring  those  three  fellows 
that  thou  speakest  of,  I  will  promise  faithfully  to 
give  them  free  pardon  for  forty  days,  to  come  or  5 
go  wheresoever  they  please,  nor  will  I  harm  a  hair 
of  their  heads  in  all  that  time.  Moreover,  if  these 
that  thou  bringest  shoot  better  than  my  yeomen, 
man  for  man,  they  shall  have  the  prizes  for  them- 
selves according  to  their  shooting.  But  as  thou  10 
hast  so  taken  up  of  a  sudden  with  sports  of  this 
kind,  hast  thou  a  mind  for  a  wager  ?  " 

"Why,  in  sooth,"  said  Queen  Eleanor,  "I  know 
naught  of  such  matters ;  but  if  thou  hast  a  mind 
to  do  somewhat  in  that  way,  I  will  strive  to  pleas-  15 
ure  thee.    What  wilt  thou  wager  upon  thy  men  ?  " 

Then  the  merry  King  laughed  again,  for  he 
dearly  loved  a  goodly  jest ;  so  he  said,  amidst  his 
laughter,  "  I  will  wager  thee  ten  tuns  of  Rhenish 
wine,  ten  tuns  of  the  stoutest  ale,  and  ten  score  20 
bows  of  tempered  Spanish  yew,  with  quivers  and 
arrows  to  match." 

All   that   stood   around   smiled   at  this,  for  it 
seemed  a  merry  wager  for  a  king  to  give  to  a 
queen ;  but  Queen  Eleanor  bowed  her  head  quietly.  25 
^^I  will  take  thy  wager,"  said  she,  "for  I  know 


330  THE  HILL  READERS 

right  well  where  to  place  those  things  that  thou 
hast  spoken  of.  Now  who  will  be  on  my  side  in 
this  matter  ?  "  And  she  looked  around  upon  them 
that  stood  about ;   but  no  one  cared  to  wager  upon 

5  the  Queen's  side  against  such  archers  as  Tepus  and 
Gilbert  and  Clifton.  Then  the  Queen  spoke  again : 
"  Now  who  will  back  me  in  this  wager  ?  " 

And  then,  as  no  one  ventured,  she  said :  "  Nay, 
I  need  no  man's   aid   in   this   undertaking;    but 

10  against  thy  wine  and  beer  and  stout  bows  of  Span- 
ish yew  I  wager  this  girdle  all  set  with  jewels  from 
around  my  waist ;  and  surely  that  is  worth  more 
than  thine." 

"  Now   I   take    thy   wager,"    quoth   the   King. 

15  "Send   for   thy   archers    straightway.     Bat   here 
come  forth  the  others ;  let  them  shoot,  and  then 
I  will  match  those  that  win  against  all  the  world." 
"  So  be  it,"  said  the  Queen.    Thereupon,  beckon- 
ing to  young  Richard  Partington,  she  whispered 

20-  something  in  his  ear,  and  straightway  the  page 
bowed  and  left  the  place,  crossing  the  meadow  to 
the  other  side  of  the  range,  where  he  was  presently 
lost  in  the  crowd.  At  this  all  that  stood  around  whis- 
pered to  one  another,  wondering  what  it  all  meant, 

25  and  what  three  men  the  Queen  was  about  to  set 
against  those  famous  archers  of  the  King's  guard. 


BOOK  FOUR  331 

And  now  the  ten  archers  of  the  King's  guard 
took  their  stand  again,  and  all  the  great  crowd 
was  hushed  to  the  stillness  of  death.  Slowly  and 
carefully  each  man  shot  his  shafts,  and  so  deep 
was  the  silence  that  you  could  hear  every  arrow  5 
rap  against  the  target  as  it  struck  it.  Then,  when 
the  last  shaft  had  sped,  a  great  roar  went  up; 
and  the  shooting,  I  wot,  was  well  worthy  of  the 
sound.  Once  again  Gilbert  had  lodged  three  arrows 
in  the  white ;  Tepus  came  second  with  two  in  the  lo 
white  and  one  in  the  black  ring  next  to  it;  but 
stout  Clifton  had  gone  down  and  Hubert  of  Suffolk 
had  taken  the  third  place  ;  for,  while  both  those 
two  good  yeomen  had  lodged  two  in  the  white, 
Clifton  had  lost  one  shot  upon  the  fourth  ring,  .15 
and  Hubert  came  in  with  one  in  the  third. 

All  the  archers  around  Gilbert's  booth  shouted 
for  joy  till  their  throats  were  hoarse,  tossing  their 
caps  aloft  and  shaking  hands  with  one  another. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  noise  and  hubbub  five  20 
men  came  walking  across  the  lawn  toward  the 
King's  pavilion.  The  first  was  Kichard  Parting- 
ton, who  was  known  to  most  folk  there,  but  the 
others  were  strange  to  everybody.  Beside  young 
Partington  walked  a  yeoman  clad  in  blue,  and  25 
behind  came  three  others,  two   in  Lincoln  green 


332  THE  HILL  READERS 

and  one  in  scarlet.  This  last  yeoman  carried  three 
stout  bows  of  yew  tree,  two  fancifully  inlaid  with 
silver  and  one  with  gold.  Whilst  these  five  men 
came  walking  across  the  meadow  a  messenger  came 
5  running  from  the  King's  booth,  and  summoned 
Gilbert  and  Tepus  and  Hubert  to  go  with  him. 
And  now  the  shouting  quickly  ceased,  for  all  saw 
that  something  unwonted  was  toward,  so  the  folk 
stood  up  in  their  places  and  leaned  forward  to  see 

10  what  was  the  ado. 

When  Partington  and  the  others  came  before 
the  spot  where  the  King  and  Queen  sat,  the  four 
yeomen  bent  their  knees  and  doffed  their  caps 
unto  her. 

15  Then  the  Queen  leaned  forward  and  spake  in  a 
clear  voice.  "  Locksley,"  said  she,  "  I  have  laid  a 
wager  with  the  King  that  thou  and  two  of  thy 
men  can  outshoot  any  three  that  he  can  send 
against  you.    Wilt  thou  do  thy  best  for  my  sake  ?" 

20  The  King  turned  to  the  Queen,  and  quoth  he, 
"Who  are  these  thou  hast  brought  before  us?" 

Now  it  happened  that  in  the  company  then 
present  was  the  Sheriff  of  Nottingham.  When  he 
beheld  the  four  yeomen  his  face  turned  as  pale  as 

25  wax  and  then  as  red  as  a  cherry.  Then  straight- 
way up  he  spake,  thinking  naught  either  of  King 


BOOK  FOUR  333 

or  Queen :  "  Yoiir  Majesty,"  quotk  he,  "yon  fellow 
in  blue  is  a  certain  outlawed  thief  of  the  mid-coun- 
try, named  Robin  Hood ;  yon  tall,  strapping  villain 
goeth  by  the  name  of  Little  John  ;  the  other  fellow 
in  green  is  a  certain  backsliding  gentleman  known  s 
as  Will  Scarlet ;  the  man  in  red  is  a  rogue  of  a 
northern  minstrel,  named  Allan-a-Dale." 

At  this  speech  the  King's  brows  drew  together 
blackly,  and  he  turned  to  the  Queen.  "  Is  this 
true  ?  "  said  he  sternly.  lo 

"Yea,"  said  the  Queen,  smiling;  "tte  Sheriff 
should  know  them  well,  and  he  hath  told  the 
truth;  but  bear  in  mind  that  thou  hast  pledged 
thy  promise  for  the  safety  of  these  good  yeomen 
for  forty  days."  15 

"  I-  will  keep  my  promise,"  said  the  King  in  a 
deep  voice  that  showed  the  anger  in  his  heart; 
"  but  when  these  forty  days  are  gone  let  this  out- 
law look  to  himself,  for  mayhap  things  will  not  go 
so  smoothly  with  him  as  he  would  like."  Then  he  20 
turned  to  his  archers,  who  stood  near  the  Sherwood 
yeomen,  listening  and  wondering  at  all  that  passed. 
Quoth  he,  "  Gilbert,  and  thou,  Tepus,  and  thou, 
Hubert,  I  have  pledged  myself  that  ye  shall  shoot 
against  these  three  fellows.  If  ye  outshoot  the  25 
knaves,  I  will  fill  your  caps  with  silver  pennies ;  if 


334  THE  HILL  READERS 

ye  fail,  ye  shall  lose  yoiir  prizes  that  ye  have  won 
so  fairly,  and  they  go  to  them  that  shoot  against 
you,  man  to  man.  Do  your  best,  lads,  and  if  ye 
win  this  bout,  ye  shall  be  glad  of  it  all  of  your  life. 

5  Go,  now,  and  get  you  gone  to  the  butts." 

Then  the  three  archers  of  the  King  turned  and 
went  back  to  their  booths,  and  Robin  and  his  men 
went  to  their  places  at  the  mark  from  which  they 
were  to  shoot.    Then  they  strung  their  bows  and 

10  made  themselves  ready,  looking  over  their  quivers 
of  arrows  and  picking  out  the  roundest  and  the 
best  feathered. 

Six  fresh  targets  were  now  set  up,  one  for  each 
man  that  was  to  shoot ;  whereupon  Gilbert  and 

15  Tepus  and  Hubert  came  straightway  forth  from 
the  booths.  Then  Robin  Hood  and  Gilbert  of  the 
White  Hand  tossed  a  farthing  aloft  to  see  who 
should  lead  in  the  shooting,  and  the  lot  fell  to 
Gilbert's  side;  thereupon  he  called  upon  Hubert 

20  of  Suffolk  to  lead. 

Hubert  took  his  place,  planted  his  foot  firmly, 
and  fitted  a  fair,  smooth  arrow;  then,  breathing 
upon  his  finger  tips,  he  drew  the  string  slowly  and 
carefully.    The  arrow  sped  true,  and  lodged  in  the 

25  white  ;  again  he  shot,  and  again  he  hit  the  clout ; 
a  third  shaft  he  sped,  but  this  time  failed  of  the 


BOOK  FOUK  335 

center,  and  but  struck  the  black,  yet  not  more  than 
a  finger's  breadth  from  the  white.  At  this  a  shout 
went  up,  for  it  was  the  best  shooting  that  Hubert 
had  yet  done  that  day. 

Merry  Robin  laughed,  and  quoth  he,  '^  Thou  wilt    5 
have  an  ill  time  bettering  that  round,  Will,  for  it 
is  thy  turn  next.    Brace  thy  thews,  lad,  and  bring 
not  shame  upon  Sherwood." 

Then  Will  Scarlet  took  his  place;  but,  because 
of  over- caution,  he  spoiled  his  target  with  the  very  lo 
first  arrow  that  he  sped,  for  he  hit  the  next  ring 
to  the  black,  the  second  from  the  center.  At  this 
Robin  bit  his  lips.  "Lad,  lad,"  quoth  he,  "hold 
not  the  string  so  long.  Have  I  not  often  told  thee 
what  Gaffer  Swanthold  s^yeth,  that  '  over-caution  i5 
spilleth  the  milk'?" 

To  this  Will  Scarlet  took  heed,  so  the  next  arrow 
he  shot  lodged  fairly  in  the  center  ring ;  again  he 
shot,  and  again  he  smote  the  center ;  but,  for  all 
that,  stout  Hubert  had  outshot  him,  and  showed  20 
the  better  target.  Then  all  those  that  looked  on 
clapped  their  hands  for  joy  because  that  Hubert 
had  overcome  the  stranger. 

Quoth  the  King,  grimly,  to  the  Queen,  "  If  thy 
archers  shoot  no  better  than  that,  thou  art  likely  to  25 
lose  thy  wager,  lady."    But  Queen  Eleanor  smiled. 


336  THE  HILL  KEADERS 

for  she  looked  for  better  things  from  Robin  Hood 
and  Little  John. 

And  now  Tepus  took  his  place  to  shoot.  He, 
also,  took  over-heed  to  what  he  was  about,  and  so 
5  he  fell  into  Will  Scarlet's  error.  The  first  arrow 
he  struck  into  the  center  ring,  but  the  second 
missed  its  mark  and  smote  the  black;  the  last 
arrow  was  tipped  with  luck,  for  it  smote  the  very 
center   of   the   clout,  upon   the   black  spot   that 

10  marked  it.  Quoth  Robin  Hood:  "That  is  the 
sweetest  shot  that  hath  been  sped  this  day ;  but, 
nevertheless,  friend  Tepus,  thy  cake  is  burned, 
methinks.    Little  John,  it  is  thy  turn  next." 

So  Little  John  took  his  place  as  bidden,  and 

15  shot  his  three  arrows  quickly.  He  never  lowered 
his  bow  arm  in  all  the  shooting,  but  fitted  each 
shaft  with  his  longbow  raised;  yet  all  three  of 
his  arrows  smote  the  center  within  easy  distance 
of  the  black.    At  this  no  sound  of  shouting  was 

20  heard,  for,  although  it  was  the  best  shooting  that 
had  been  done  that  day,  the  folk  of  London  Town 
did  not  like  to  see  the  stout  Tepus  overcome  by 
a  fellow  from  the  countryside,  even  were  he  as 
famous  as  Little  John. 

25  And  now  stout  Gilbert  of  the  White  Hand  took 
his  place  and  shot  with  the  greatest  care ;  and 


BOOK  FOUR  337 

again,  for  the  third  time  in  one  day,  he  struck  all 
three  shafts  into  the  clout. 

"  Well  done,  Gilbert !  "  quoth  Robin  Hood,  smit- 
ing him  upon  the  shoulder.  "  I  make  my  vow, 
thou  art  one  of  the  best  archers  that  ever  mine  s 
eyes  beheld.  Thou  shouldst  be  a  free  and  merry 
ranger  like  us,  lad,  for  thou  art  better  fitted 
for  the  greenwood  than  for  the  cobblestones  and 
gray  walls  of  London  Town."  So  saying,  he  took 
his  place  and  drew  a  fair,  round  arrow  from  his  lo 
quiver,  which  he  turned  over  and  over  ere  he  fitted 
it  to  his  bowstring. 

Then  the  King  muttered  in  his  beard,  "Now, 
blessed  St.  Hubert,  if  thou  wilt  but  jog  that 
rogue's  elbow  so  as  to  make  him  smite  even  the  is 
second  ring,  I  will  give  eight  score  waxen  candles 
three  fingers'  breadth  in  thickness  to  thy  chapel 
nigh  Matching."  But  it  may  be  St.  Hubert's  ears 
were  stuffed  with  tow,  for  he  seemed  not  to  hear 
the  King's  prayer  this  day.  20 

Having  gotten  three  shafts  to  his  liking,  merry 
Robin  looked  carefully  to  his  bowstring  ere  he 
shot.  "  Yea,"  quoth  he  to  Gilbert,  who  stood  nigh 
him  to  watch  his  shooting,  "thou  shouldst  pay 
us  a  visit  at  merry  Sherwood."  Here  he  drew  25 
the  bowstring  to  his  ear.    "  In  London  "  —  here  he 


338  THE  HILL  READERS 

■  loosed  his  shaft  —  "thou  canst  find  naught  to 
shoot  at  but  rooks  and  daws ;  there  one  can  tickle 
the  ribs  of  the  noblest  stags  in  England."  So  he 
shot  even  whilst  he  talked,  yet  the  shaft  lodged 

5  not  more  than  half  an  inch  from  the  very  center. 
"  By  my  soul !  "  cried  Gilbert.    "  Art  thou  the 
devil  in  blue,  to  shoot  in  that  wise  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  quoth  Robin,  laughing,  "  not  quite  so  ill 
as  that,  I  trust."    And  he  took  up  another  shaft 

10  and  fitted  it  to  the  string.  Again  he  shot,  and  again 
he  smote  his  arrow  close  beside  the  center ;  a  third 
time  he  loosed  his  bowstring  and  dropped  his  arrow 
just  betwixt  the  other  two  and  into  the  very  center, 
so  that  the  feathers  of  all  three  were  ruffled  to- 

15  gether,  seeming  from  a  distance  to  be  one  thick  shaft. 

And  now  a  low  murmur  rang  all  among  that 

great  crowd,  for  never  before  had  London  seen 

such  shooting  as  this;  and  never  again  would  it 

see  it  after  Robin  Hood's  day  had  gone.    All  saw 

20  that  the  King's  archers  were  fairly  beaten,  and 
stout  Gilbert  clapped  his  palm  to  Robin's,  owning 
that  he  could  never  hope  to  draw  such  a  bowstring 
as  Robin  Hood  or  Little  John.  But  the  King,  full 
of  wrath,  would  not  have  it  so,  though  he  knew 

25  in  his  mind  that  his  men  could  not  stand  against 
those    fellows.     '^Nay,"    cried    he,   clinching    his 


BOOK  FOUR  339 

hands  upon  the  arms  of  his  seat ;  "  Gilbert  is  not 
yet  beaten.  Did  he  not  strike  the  clout  thrice? 
Although  I  have  lost  my  wager,  he  hath  not  yet 
lost  the  first  prize.  They  shall  shoot  again,  and 
still  again,  till  either  he  or  that  knave  Robin  Hood  5 
Cometh  off  the  best.  Go  thou.  Sir  Hugh,  and  bid 
them  shoot  another  round,  and  another,  until  one 
or  the  other  is  overcome."  Then  Sir  Hugh,  seeing 
how  wroth  the  King  was,  said  never  a  word,  but 
went  straightway  to  do  his  bidding ;  so  he  came  to  10 
where  Robin  Hood  and  the  other  stood,  and  told 
them  what  the  King  had  said. 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  quoth  merry  Robin.    "  I 
will  shoot  from  this  time  till  to-morrow  day  if  it 
can  pleasure  my  most  gracious  lord  and  King.   Take  is 
thy  place,  Gilbert,  lad,  and  shoot." 

So  Gilbert  took  his  place  once  more,  but  this 
time  he  failed,  for,  a  sudden  little  wind  arising,  his 
shaft  missed  the  center  ring,  but  by  not  more  than 
the  breadth  of  a  barley  straw.  20 

"  Thy  eggs  are  cracked,  Gilbert,"  quoth  Robin, 
laughing ;  and  straightway  he  loosed  a  shaft,  and 
once  more  smote  the  white  circle  of  the  center. 

Then  the  King  arose  from  his  place,  and  not  a 
word  said  he ;  but  he  looked  around  with  a  baleful  25 
look,  and  it  would  have  been  an  ill  day  for  any  one 


340  THE  HILL  READERS 

that  he  saw  with  a  joyous  or  a  merry  look  upon 
his  face.  Then  he  and  his  Queen  and  all  the  Court 
left  the  place,  but  the  King's  heart  was  brimming 
full  of  wrath  within  him. 

5  After  the  king  had  gone  all  the  yeomen  of  the 
archer  guard  came  crowding  around  Robin,  and 
Little  John,  and  Will,  and  Allan,  to  snatch  a  look 
at  these  famous  fellows  from  the  mid-country ;  and 
with  them  came  many  that  had  been  onlookers  at 

10  the  sport,  for  the  same  purpose.  Thus  it  happened 
presently  that  the  yeomen,  to  whom  Gilbert  stood 
talking,  were  all  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  people 
that  formed  a  ring  about  them.  "Marry,"  quoth 
Little  John  to  Will  Scarlet,  "  one  would  think  that 

15  these  poor  fellows  had  never  seen  a  stout  yeoman 
ranger  in  all  their  lives  before,  or  that  we  were 
some  curious  spectacle,  like  the  Cumberland  Giant, 
or  the  Welsh  Dwarf,  that  we  saw  last  month  at 
the  fair  at  Norwich." 

20  After  a  while  the  three  judges  that  had  the  giv- 
ing away  of  the  prizes  came  forward,  and  the  chief 
of  them  all  spake  to  Robin  and  said,  "According 
to  agreement,  the  first  prize  belongeth  rightly  to 
thee ;  so  here  I  give  thee  the  silver  bugle,  here  the 

25  quiver  of  ten  golden  arrows,  and  here  a  purse 
of  two  score  and  ten  golden  pounds."    And  as  he 


BOOK  FOUR  341 

spake  he  handed  those  things  to  Robin,  and  then 
turned  to  Little  John.  "  To  thee,"  he  said,  "  belong- 
eth  the  second  prize,  to  wit,  five  score  of  the  finest 
harts  that  rim  on  Dallen  Lea.  Thou  mayest  shoot 
them  whensoever  thou  dost  list."  Last  of  all  he  5 
turned  to  stout  Hubert.  "Thou,"  said  he,  "hast 
held  thine  own  against  the  yeoman  with  whom 
thou  didst  shoot,  and  so  thou  hast  kept  the  prize 
duly  thine,  to  wit,  two  tuns  of  good  Rhenish  wine. 
These  shall  be  delivered  to  thee  whensoever  thou  lo 
dost  list."  Then  he  called  upon  the  other  seven  of 
the  King's  archers  who  had  last  shot,  and  gave 
them  each  four  score  silver  pennies. 

Then  up  spake  Robin,  and  quoth  he  :  "  This  sil- 
ver bugle  I  keep  in  honor  of  this  shooting  match ;  15 
but  thou,  Gilbert,  art  the  best  archer  of  all  the 
King's  guard,  and  to  thee  I  freely  give  this  purse 
of  gold.  Take  it,  man,  and  would  it  were  ten 
times  as  much,  for  thou  art  a  right  yeoman,  good 
and  true,  furthermore,  to  each  of  the  ten  that  20 
last  shot  I  give  one  of  these  golden  shafts  apiece. 
Keep  them  always  by  you,  so  that  ye  may  tell 
your  grandchildren  that  ye  are  the  very  stoutest 
yeomen  in  all  the  wide  world." 

At  this  all  shouted  aloud,  for  it  pleased  them  to  25 
hear  Robin  speak  so  of  them. 


342  THE  HILL  READERS 

Then  up  spake  Little  John.  "  Good  friend 
Tepus,"  said  he,  "  I  want  not  those  harts  of  Dallen 
Lea  that  yon  stout  judge  spoke  of  but  now,  for  we 
have  more  than  enow  in  our  own  country.  Two 
5  score  and  ten  I  give  thee  for  thine  own  shooting, 
and  five  I  give  to  each  band  for  their  pleasure." 

At  this  another  great  shout  went  up,  and  many 
tossed  their  caps  aloft  and  swore  among  them- 
selves that  no  better  fellows  ever  walked  the  sod 
10  than  Robin  Hood  and  his  stout  yeomen. 

Thus  ended  the  famous  shooting  match  before 
Queen  Eleanor. 

quoth:   said.  —  doffing:   taking  off. — bower:'  a  lady's  room. 

—  lusty:  mighty,  full  of  strength.  —  dais:  a  raised  platform. — t 
halberd  :  a  long-handled  weapon  with  a  sharp,  ornamented  point. 

—  bedecked :  decorated.  —  wot :  know.  —  unwonted :  unusual.  — 
toward :  ahout  to  happen.  —  clout :  the  center  of  a  target.  —  list : 
choose.  — bout :  contest.  —  thews  :  muscles.  —  ranger :  rover.  — 
baleful:  full  of  evil. — enow:  enough. 


BOOK  FOUE  343 

RALEIGH  AND  QUEEN  ELIZABETH 

Walter  Scott 

When  the  message  of  the  Queen  was  communi- 
cated to  the  Earl  of  Sussex,  he  commanded  Blount, 
his  master  of  the  horse,  to  take  boat  and  go  down 
the  river  to  the  Palace  of  Greenwich,  taking  young 
Walter  and  Tracy  with  him,  and  make  a  suitable  5 
compliment,  expressing  his  grateful  thanks  to  his 
sovereign  and  mentioning  the  cause  why  he  had 
not  been  enabled  to  profit  by  the  assistance  of  the 
wise  and  learned  Doctor  Masters. 

"  Had  my  lord  sent  me  with  a  cartel  to  Leices-  10 
ter,"  said  Blount  as  he  went  down  the  stairs,  "  I 
think  I  should  have  done  his  errand  indifferently 
well.    But  to  go  to  our  gracious  sovereign,  before 
whom  all  words  must  be  lacquered  over  either  with 
gilding  or  with  sugar,  is  such  a  confectionery  mat-  is 
ter  as  baffles  my  poor  old  English  brain.    Come 
with  me,  Tracy ;  and  come  you  too,  Master  Walter 
Wittypate,  that  art  the  cause  of  our  having  all  this 
ado.    Let  us  see  if  thy  neat  brain,  that  frames  so 
many  flashy  fireworks,  can  help  out  a  plain  fellow  20 
at  need  with  some  of  thy  shrewd  devices." 

"Never  fear!"  exclaimed  the  youth.    "It  is  I 
will  help  you  through ;  let  me  but  fetch  my  cloak." 


344  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

"Why,  thou  hast  it  on  thy  shoulders,"  said 
Blount ;  "  the  lad  is  'mazed." 

"No,  this  is  Tracy's  old  mantle,"  answered 
Walter.  "  I  go  not  with  thee  to  court  unless  as 
5  a  gentleman  should." 

"Why,"  said  Blount,  "thy  braveries  will  dazzle 
the  eyes  of  none  but  some  poor  groom  or  porter." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  the  youth ;  "  but  I  am  re- 
solved I  will  have  my  own  cloak  —  aye,  and  brush 
10  my  doublet  to  boot  —  ere  I  stir  forth  with  you." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Blount ;  "  here  is  a  coil 
about  a  doublet  and  a  cloak.    Get  thyself  ready." 

They  were  soon  launched  on  the  princely  bosom 
of  the  broad  Thames,  upon  which  the  sun  now 
15  shone  forth  in  all  its  splendor. 

"  There  are  two  things  scarce  matched  in  the 
universe,"  said  Walter  to  Blount :  "  the  sun  in 
heaven,  and  the  Thames  on  the  earth." 

"  The  one  will  light  us  to  Greenwich  well 
20  enough,"  said  Blount,  "  and  the  other  would  take 
us  there  a  little  faster  if  it  were  ebb  tide." 

"And  this  is  all  thou  think'st,  all  thou  carest, 

all  thou  deem'st  the  use  of  the  king  of  elements 

and  the  king  of  rivers,  to  guide  three  such  poor 

25  caitiffs  as  thyself,  and  me,  and  Tracy  upon  an  idle 

journey  of  courtly  ceremony." 


BOOK  FOUR  345 

"It  is  no  errajid  of  my  seeking,  faith,"  replied 
Blount ;  "  and  I  could  excuse  both  the  sun  and  the 
Thames  the  trouble  of  carrying  me.  And  by  my 
honor,"  he  added,  looking  out  from  the  head  of  the 
boat,  "  it  seems  to  me  as  if  our  message  were  a  sort  5 
of  labor  in  vain;  for  see,  the  Queen's  barge  lies  at  the 
stairs,  as  if  her  Majesty  were  about  to  take  water." 

It  was  even  so.  The  royal  barge,  manned  with 
the  Queen's  watermen  richly  attired  in  the  regal 
liveries,  did  indeed  lie  at  the  great  stairs  which  lo 
ascended  from  the  river,  and  along  with  it  two  or 
three  other  boats.  The  yeomen  of  the  guard,  the 
tallest  and  most  handsome  men  whom  England 
could  produce,  guarded  with  their  halberds  the 
passage  from  the  palace  gate  to  the  riverside,  and  i5 
all  seemed  in  readiness  for  the  Queen's  coming 
forth,  although  the  day  was  yet  so  early.  ^ 

At  this  moment  the  gates  opened  and  ushers 
began  to  issue  forth  in  array,  preceded  and  flanked 
by  the  band  of  gentlemen  pensioners.  After  this,  20 
amid  a  crowd  of  lords  and  ladies,  came  Elizabeth 
herself,  then  in  the  prime  of  womanhood,  and  in 
the  full  glow  of  what  in  a  sovereign  was  called 
beauty,  and  would  in  the  lowest  rank  of  life  have 
been  truly  judged  a  noble  figure,  joined  to  a  strik-  25 
ing  and  commanding  physiognomy. 


346  THE  HILL  EEADEES 

The  young  cavalier  had  probably  never  yet 
approached  so  near  the  person  of  his  sovereign, 
and  he  pressed  forward  as  far  as  the  line  of 
wardens  permitted,  in  order  to  avail  himself  of 
5  the  present  opportunity.  His  companion,  on  the 
contrary,  kept  pulling  him  backwards,  till  Walter 
shook  him  off  impatiently,  letting  his  rich  cloak 
drop  carelessly  from  one  shoulder,  —  a  natural 
action,  which  served,  however,  to  display  his  figure 

10  to  the  best  advantage.  Unbonneting  at  the  same 
time,  he  fixed  his  eager  gaze  on  the  Queen's 
approach,  with  a  mixture  of  respectful  curiosity 
and  modest  yet  ardent  admiration,  which  suited 
so  well  with  his  fine  features  that  the  warders, 

15  struck  with  his  rich  attire  and  noble  countenance, 
suffered  him  to  approach  somewhat  closer  than 
was  permitted  to  ordinary  spectators. 

Thus  the  adventurous  youth  stood  full  in  Eliza- 
beth's eye,  —  an  eye  never  indifferent  to  the  ad- 

20  miration  which  she  deservedly  excited,  or  to  the 
fair  external  form  which  chanced  to  distinguish 
any  of  her  courtiers.  Accordingly  she  fixed  her 
keen  glance  on  the  youth  with  a  look  in  which 
surprise  at  his  boldness  seemed  to  be  unmingled 

25  with  resentment,  while  a  trifling  accident  happened 
which  attracted  her  attention  toward  him  yet 
more  strongly. 


BOOK  FOUK 


347 


The  night  had  been  rainy,  and  just  where  the 
young  gentleman  stood  a  small  quantity  of  mud 
interrupted  the  Queen's  passage.  As  she  hesitated 
to  pass  on,  the  gallant,  throwing  his  cloak  from 
his  shoulders,  laid  it  on  the  miry  spot,  so  as  to 


insure  her  stepping  over  it  dry-shod.  Elizabeth 
looked  at  the  young  man,  who  accompanied  this 
act  of  devoted  courtesy  with  a  profound  rever- 
ence and  a  blush  that  overspread  his  whole  coun- 
tenance. 

The  Queen  was  confused,  and  blushed  in  her 
turn,  nodded  her  head,  hastily  passed  on,  and 
embarked  in  her  barge  without  saying  a  word. 


10 


348  THE  HILL  READERS 

"  Come  along,  Sir  Coxcomb,"  said  Blount ;  "  your 

gay  cloak  will  need  the  brush  to-day,  I  wot.    Nay, 

if   you  had  meant  to  make   a  footcloth  of   thy 

mantle,  better  have  kept  Tracy's  old  coat,  which 

5  despises  all  colors." 

"  This  cloak,"  said  the  youth,  taking  it  up  and 
folding  it,  "  shall  never  be  brushed  while  in  my 
possession." 

"And  that  will  not  be  long,  if  you  learn  not  a 
10  little  more  economy." 

Their  discourse  was  here  interrupted  by  one  of 
the  band  of  pensioners. 

"I  was  sent,"   said  he,  after  looking  at  them 

attentively,  "  to  a  gentleman  who  hath  no  cloak, 

15  or  a  muddy  one.    You,  sir,  I  think,"  addressing  the 

younger  cavalier,  "  are  the  man ;  you  will  please 

to  follow  me." 

"He  is  in  attendance  on  me,"  said  Blount  — 
"  on  me,  the  Earl  of  Sussex's  master  of  horse." 
20       "J  have  nothing  to  say  to  that,"  answered  the 
messenger ;    "  my   orders    are   directly   from   her 
Majesty,  and  concern  this  gentleman  only." 

So  saying,  he  walked  away,  followed  by  Walter, 
leaving  the  others  behind,  Blount's  eyes  almost 
25  starting  from   his   head   with   the   excess  of   his 
astonishment. 


BOOK  FOUR  349 

The  young  cavalier  was,  in  the  meanwhile,  guided 
to  the  water  side  by  the  pensioner,  who  showed 
him  considerable  respect.  He  ushered  him  into 
one  of  the  wherries  which  lay  ready  to  attend  the 
Queen's  barge,  which  was  already  proceeding  up  5 
the  river. 

The  two  rowers  used  their  oars  with  such  expe- 
dition, at  the  signal  of  the  gentleman  pensioner, 
that  they  very  soon  brought  their  little  skiff  under 
the  stern  of  the  Queen's  boat,  where  she  sat  be-  lo 
neath  an  awning,  attended  by  two  or  three  ladies 
and  nobles  of  her  household.  She  looked  more 
than  once  at  the  wherry  in  which  the  young  ad- 
venturer was  seated,  spoke  to  those  around  her, 
and  seemed  to  laugh.  15 

At  length  one  of  her  attendants,  by  the  Queen's 
order  apparently,  made  a  sign  for  the  wherry  to 
come  alongside,  and  the  young  man  was  desired 
to  step  from  his  own  skiff  into  the  Queen's  barge. 
He  was  then  brought  aft  to  the  Queen's  presence,  20 
the  wherry  at  the  same  time  dropping  into  the  rear. 
The  youth  underwent  the  gaze  of  majesty  not  the 
less  gracefully  that  his  self-possession  was  mingled 
with  embarrassment.  The  muddied  cloak  still  hung 
upon  his  arm,  and  formed  the  natural  topic  with  25 
which  the  Queen  introduced  the  conversation. 


350  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

"  You  have  this  day  spoiled  a  gay  mantle  in  our 
behalf,  young,  man.  We  thank  you  for  your  serv- 
ice, though  the  manner  of  offering  it  was  unusual, 
and  something  bold." 

5  "  In  a  sovereign's  need,"  answered  the  youth, 
"  it  is  each  liegeman's  duty  to  be  bold." 

"  That  was  well  said,  my  lord,"  said  the  Queen, 
turning  to  a  grave  person  who  sat  by  her,  and 
who  answered  with  a  mumbled  assent.    "  Well, 

10  young  man,  your  gallantry  shall  not  go  unrewarded. 
Go  to  the  wardrobe  keeper,  and  he  shall  supply 
the  suit  which  you  have  cast  away  in  our  service. 
Thou  shalt  have  a  suit,  and  that  of  the  newest 
cut,  I  promise  thee,  on  the  word  of  a  princess." 

15  "  May  it  please  your  Grace,"  said  Walter,  hesi- 
tating, "it  is  not  for  so  humble  a  servant  of  your 
Majesty  to  measure  out  your  bounties ;  but  if  it 
became  me  to  choose  —  " 

"  Thou  wouldst  have  gold,  I  warrant  me,"  said 

20  the  Queen,  interrupting  him.  "  Yet  thou  mayst 
be  poor,"  she  added,  "  or  thy  parents  may  be.  It 
shall  be  gold,  if  thou  wilt." 

Walter  waited  patiently  until  the  Queen  had 
done,  and  then  modestly  assured  her  that  gold  was 

25  still  less  in  his  wish  than  the  raiment  her  Majesty 
had  before  offered. 


BOOK  FOUR  351 

"  How,  boy !  "  said  the  Queen ;  "  neither  gold  nor 
garment !  What  is  it,  then,  that  thou  wouldst  have 
of  me?" 

"  Only  permission,  madam,  —  if  it  is  not  asking 
too  high  an  honor,  —  permission  to  wear  the  cloak  5 
which  did  you  this  trifling  service." 

"  Permission  to  wear  thine  own  cloak,  thou  silly 
boy !  "  said  the  Queen. 

"  It  is  no  longer  mine,"  said  Walter.    "  When 
your  Majesty's  foot  touched  it,   it  became  a  fit  10 
mantle  for  a  prince,  but  far  too  rich  a-one  for  its 
former  owner." 

The  Queen  again  blushed,  and  endeavored  to 
cover,  by  laughing,  a  slight  degree  of  not  unpleas- 
ing  surprise  and  confusion.  15 

"Heard  you  ever  the  like,  my  lords?  The 
youth's  head  is  turned  with  reading  romances.  I 
must  know  something  of  him,  that  I  may  send  him 
safe  to  his  friends.  What  art  thou  ?  What  is  thy 
name  and  birth  ?  "  20 

"Raleigh  is  my  name,  most  gracious  Queen, — 
the  youngest  son  of  a  large  but  honorable  family 
of  Devonshire." 

"  Raleigh  !  "    said  Elizabeth,   after  a  moment's 
recollection.    "  Have  we  not  heard  of  your  service  25 
in  Ireland?" 


352  THE  HILL  EEADERS 

"  I  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  do  some  service 
there,  madam,"  replied  Raleigh ;  "  scarce,  however, 
of  consequence  sufficient  to  reach  your  Grace's  ears." 
"  They  hear  farther  than  you  think  of,"  said  the 
5  Queen,  graciously ;  "  and  have  heard  of  a  youth 
who  defended  a  ford  in  Shannon  against  a  whole 
band  of  wild  Irish  rebels,  until  the  stream  ran 
purple  with  their  blood  and  his  own." 

"  Some  blood  I  may  have  lost,"  said  the  youth, 
10  looking  down,  "  but  it  was  where  my  best  is  due, 
and  that  is  in  your  Majesty's  service." 

The  Queen  paused,  and  then  said  hastily :  "  You 
are  very  young  to  have  fought  so  well  and  to  speak 
so  well.    But  you  must  not  escape  your  penance 
15  for  turning  back   Masters.     The  poor  man  hath 
caught  cold  on  the  river ;  for  our  orders  reached 
him  when  he  was  just  returned  from  certain  visits 
in  London,  and  he  held  it  a  matter  of  loyalty  and 
conscience  instantly  to  set  forth  again.    So  hark 
20  ye.  Master  Raleigh,  see  thou  fail  not  to  wear  thy 
•  muddy  cloak,  in  token  of  penitence,  till  our  pleas- 
ure be  farther  known.    And  here,"  she  added,  giv- 
ing him  a  jewel  of  gold  in  the  form  of  a  chessman, 
"  I  give  thee  this  to  wear  at  the  collar." 

cartel:  a  challenge coil:  disturbance. — physiognomy:  coun- 
tenance.—  wherries:  light,  narrow  boats. 


VB  36793 


541-162 


Oept 


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